Contemplating Eternity
by theemeralddragon26
Summary: 1921: In a world where witches are merely viewed as possessions, the man that owns the best witch is the top wizard. Draco Malfoy is regarded as the 4th best wizard of his time, that is, until he finds a witch that will make him #1. Her name is Hermione Granger, and she doesn't abide the social standards of the age. But he NEEDS her to be #1. Trust me; story is better than summary!
1. Chapter 1: An Introduction of Sorts

**Hello, I'm Emerald. This is my first fan fiction story, so notify me if I'm doing anything wrong, please. Review and tell me what you think, because I'm debating on whether or not to continue with this fanfic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters or plot lines. If I did, then Hermione would have undoubtable ended up with Malfoy…oh, and I would be bloody rich. Can't forget that last part.**

**Here is a brief description of the setting so you guys know what exactly is happening in my story:**

**It is 1921, the wizarding world has adopted a new view of witches and their purpose. Historically, women were previously not granted rights and socially classified under men, in addition, the wizarding world has accepted the belief that women are also viewed as possessions. The wizard with the most submissive, beautiful wife is regarded as the best wizard of his time. Rather than getting caught up in dozens of marriages, wizards sign Procuration Contracts between the wizard and the witch's family stating that until the wizard finds a better mate, the woman is considered his and shall be treated as his property. Society pretty much becomes a free for all, and the pretty women become the pride of families. Of course, Draco and Hermione had perviously attended Hogwarts; however, in the 20th century, there were thousands of witches and wizards that also attended Hogwarts (this is pre-Voldemort, so the majority of the sudents are muggle-borns; for the sake of a sensible plot line, I'm writing without the stereo type). Due to the large amount of students at Hogwarts, Hermione and Malfoy have never met before; she is two years younger than him.**

{Draco}

Draco looked around his room in satisfaction. He was only nineteen years old, and he already had it all. He was rocking the looks. No shock there. He had the money. Of course. He possessed the girls. With out a doubt. And best of all, he was regarded as one of the best wizards of his time. Impressive, right. No, not right. Apparently, news of his latest Procuration Contract had reached the ears of his parents; it would be sufficient to say that they were not in the least bit pleased.

Draco sighed as he looked at himself in the full length mirror that spanned across the back wall of his bathroom; in the mirror he saw a confident, handsome wizard who could posses nearly any girl he wanted. He could be given any position in any line of work he decided to take up. He could be greeted with open arms to play as Seeker for any quidditch team. Hell, he could even buy all of Diagon alley, transform it into a large princess shop, and watch it develop into one of the worlds largest industries just by plastering his name across the front of it. Yet the one thing he couldn't ever get would be his parent's approval.

The Malfoys had been bred to be the perfect, traditional family. However, they were far from perfect, or at least in Draco's mind they were. His father and mother had committed the worst folly thinkable in the wizarding community. Very few people knew this was the case, and only Draco knew that the older Malfoys' treachery went all the way back to the wretched day his parents had met and Lucius had foolishly claimed the young beauty, Narcissa. The couple had signed a Procuration Contract when his father was twenty-three and his mother was nineteen; it had been his mother's first contract, and his father's third contract. It was the last contract both of them ever had signed. Soon afterwards, the couple had fallen deeply and sickeningly in love. Narcissa was incomparably beautiful with her long blond and black hair as well as her pale, sharp features; many wizards understood why Lucius had never signed another contract after signing hers, for even at her current age she was breathtakingly flawless, but no one except for Draco and a few others knew the real reason they were still together. The powerful wizard had fallen in love with the alluring witch. Worse yet, the couple had gotten secretly married and to this day still were married.

Draco considered his parents the ultimate disgrace, yet he still loved them. Such a strange thing it was, that their love had ruined his life, and still he loved them. He hated love, but would engage in the act only for his parents. Draco hated himself for the admiration he felt for the older Malfoys; he loathed himself for the respect he held toward his father; he despised himself for seeking their affection and praise. As he walked over to his nightstand to find his wand and apperate to their residence in the Malfoy Estates, he quietly cursed himself for being born into the Malfoy line. Once again, he was ignoring society by grabbing his wand and apperating to his parents gaudy mansion. Bloody disgrace, he muttered to himself in annoyance as he appeared in their sitting room. HIs eyes were tightly closed, a lesson he had learned the hard way after apparating in front of his parents during one of their more intimate moments.

"Draco," Narcissa exclaimed in what sounded like surprise. Draco peeped one eye open, hoping to Merlin that he had caught his parents in a state of decency. What he found was the two Malfoys seated on a large loveseat in a large gold room behind a small, glass coffee table. Lucius looked over the top of his newspaper at the sudden arrival of his son and Narcissa hastily stood up, spilling her tea with the sudden action. Draco exhaled in relief at the innocent sight, and moved to help his mother wipe the tea off her dress.

"Draco," his mother repeated holding up a hand and stopping him in the act. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, ignoring the tea as it soaked into the folds and ruffles of her expensive violet dress. Lucius went back to reading his newspaper, as though it were suddenly very interesting. Draco bit his lip to prevent his angry words from flowing out of his mouth as his father ignore him much like the stain his mother was currently ignoring. He hadn't been lying when he had sworn to his parents that he would never talk to them again after discovering that they were married. A year and two months had gone by since then, and not once had Draco contacted them. In that time, they hadn't attempted to connect with him either. It was better that way, or at least it had been before Draco had gotten a letter from his father this afternoon.

"This," Draco growled, pulling a cream envelope with a green embellishment on it out of his inner jacket pocket and dropping it on the coffee table, "is why." Draco turned his glare on his father, who was successfully hiding his face behind the newspaper.

Narcissa looked at the envelope in recognition and then at her husband in shock. "Oh no. Lucius you didn't," She cried. Lucius kept reading. "Merlin's beard, Lucius. You had no right."

"No right!" the man shouted, throwing his newspaper to the ground in anger. He looked his wife in the eye and lowered his voice, still refusing to acknowledge Draco. "This is Draco's eleventh Contract, Narcissa. _He_ has no right. The boy is going against everything we raised him to be; he refuses to listen to us. Soon he will end up a-"

"The _boy_ is right here, you know" Draco interrupted rudely, "And what I do with my life is none of your business."

"Your affairs are none of our business," Lucius sneered at his son, finally turning and looking the boy in the eye. "But what you do to our family name is our business, son" The last word was a hiss. Narcissa stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, knowing better than to interrupt the two men.

Draco's eyes narrowed. He took a step closer to his father. "I resurrected _our _name." Another step. "I brought honor back to this house." One more step. "_You_ are the one who disgraced us, Father." Draco now stood, towering over the older man. "_You_ are the one that made our lives a living Hell." Steel silver resolve met piercing grey determination in the eyes of the two Malfoy wizards.

"Excuse me, master Malfoy. Poppy heard shouts. Is master okay?"

The squeaky voice of his father's house elf pulled Draco's attention from the nonverbal battle between him and his father. With one last hard look at Lucius, he turned to the young elf and frowned. The elf had… no eyes. _Only his father would take in a blind elf_, Draco thought angrily as he pulled his wand from his pocket. "Goodbye, Mother." Draco bowed formally to his mother. "I hope that in the future you will be able to control your husband. It would be appreciated if you kept him away from the hazards of quills and parchment."

"Wait, Draco-" The woman moved toward her son, but he disappeared with a small pop.

-o-o-

The room was pitch black save for the light of the fire in the stone fireplace. Its only occupant was quite fond of darkness and found its presence comforting, especially on nights like this. Draco sat in his favorite leather chair with a glass of fire whiskey in his hand and stared into the flames of his fireplace. His parents were utter idiots; there was no shame in admitting it. Lucius had always abided to the rules of society, in fact, he still did. However, now his father would do things like take in a blind house elf. The acts themselves were't as treacherous as marriage, but they were frowned upon. There was no way to explain what was happening to to the old man, but Draco knew the wizard community would reject the change. How was Draco ever going to maintain his family's name? How was Draco ever going to protect his mother and father from society? Draco could not just abandon the only two people whom loved him, no matter how much he tried to make them hate him. The young Malfoy finished the rest of the fire whiskey in his glass, and welcomed the burn it brought to the back of his throat.

"Draco deary?" A ray of light fell across the rugged features of the Malfoy in the chair as a dark skinned witch walked in through the door she had opened. Draco squinted against the sudden light and watched the exotic women turn and close the door behind her. She was beautiful; there was a certain alluring characteristic to the way she held herself. Maybe it was just the five inch heels she wore, or maybe it was the tiny dress that hugged her body. Whatever it was, one thing was for sure, the women would boost his status. They had only just signed the Contract that morning, so no one had seen her yet, but Draco was planning to change that as soon as possible. _Tomorrow_, he thought, _after she has adjusted to the house, I'll take her out on the town, and show her off._ Yes. That's what he would do. "Are you ready for bed?" she questioned.

Now, the woman stood in front of their bed. She ran her hands over the green, silk sheets in what should have been a seductive gesture, but Draco didn't find it seductive at all. _If only she knew,_ he though in grim amusement, _of all the women who have done the same thing in that same bed over the last two years._ "Why not?" Draco said, pulling himself up from his chair and placing the whiskey glass on an empty table while making a mental note to get the elves to change the sheets the next morning. Green was no longer his favorite color, and he wanted the color to be removed from his bed. The past few years had changed him; he was no longer the juvenile Slytherin Prince. He had finally grown up.

-o-o-

{Hermione}

"ABSOLUTELY PREPOSTEROUS!" The frizzy haired witch shouted, crumpling up the newspaper she had been reading. She threw the paper ball at the wall of her hotel room in Diagon Alley; it bounced off the wall and landed on the bed next to where she sat. The girl let out a frustrated breath and fell back onto the bead, trying to prevent the tears from pooling in her eyes. All those years of hard work. All those hours of pouring herself over books in the library. All those Saturdays spent studying instead of watching Quidditch matches. All those holidays spent at Hogwarts, working toward her well-earned position of valedictorian . All of that was for nothing.

The bold headlines of the newspaper still shown behind her eyes. A tear escaped from her shut eyes as she re-read the fated words: WITCHES: THE NEW SPRING TREND! She had just graduated from Hogwarts that spring, and after a summer spent with her parents in the muggle world, she had come back to the wizarding world to take up a previous job offer as a Curse-Breaker only to find herself on the streets, running from men who claimed a right to posses her as if she was property. When she was in Hogwarts, she hadn't paid any mind to the wizard's views of marriage and relationship statuses. The tradition of submissive women and Procuration Contracts had been widely accepted by the public, and wasn't exactly a popular topic for discussion, not that Hermione would have listened to the gossip at the time. Her studies were her only concerns back then; she barely even had time to read the Daily Prophet in the morning, and when she did it was only the section on wizard politics. The first time she heard about this social trend was a few hours ago. How could she have missed something so overt?!

The discovery hadn't been a pleasant one. It had been a long day, even for a girl like Hermione. After being rejected by the Curse-Breaking agency (when realizing that she was not yet in a contract and had no intention of getting involve in one anytime soon and because single girls were more trouble then they were worth, they had declined her a position at the agency), Hermione had started to walk home. On the street, a desperate man had grabbed her and demanded that she sign a Procuration Contract with him so his mother would stop nagging him about their low-class status. Having politely refused the man, the young witch turned to be on her way. However, the rude wizard had grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him demanding that she sign the Contract and yelling at her that she had no right to refuse. None of the people walking past them even blinked an eye at his brutality; Hermione was shocked, but not frozen. Pulling out her wand, she threatened the man with a curse she had just learned before running away. She didn't slow until she reached her room. That was when she had seen the bloody article. After reading how witches had become no more than play-things and shiny displays of prestige, the tired witch felt deserving of a good cry.

A second tear slid down Hermione's cheek. How was she ever going to find work as a single witch? There was no way she was going to enter into a Contract and slave herself about to filthy men; she had been raised better than that. She was worth more than that. She started thinking to herself, _If only she could just-_. Suddenly, the bright witch sat up. If only she could just fake the Contract! It was a bloody brilliant idea; it wasn't the best, but it could be improved in the future. For now, all Hermione needed to do was make a convincing show and get a decent job where she wouldn't be bothered by slimy wizard scum. Whipping the tears from her face with a shaking hand, the determined witch unwrapped the paper ball of a newspaper and began to re-read it. All she need now was a wizard's token and a signed piece of paper, then no one would be able to touch her. It was either that or to use polyjuice potion to become a boy - an idea that she quickly shut down, for then she would be expected to find a witch to mate.

Taking a shaky breath, Hermione pulled out a new roll of parchment and began writing a note to her friend from Hogwarts. _Dear Ron_, she started bitting her lips in annoyance of having to ask such a strange favor of such a close friend, especially when he was getting married in only a week -for he was a very traditional wizard and had fallen deeply in love with a fellow student at Hogwarts whom was strangely named after a flower-, _I need a big favor._

_-_l

**So what did you guys think? If you have any questions as to where this story is going just ask. I'd love to give you some clues as to my intent for this fanfic. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed it. -Emerald**


	2. Chapter 2: New Beginnings & New Faces

**Hey guys, Emerald here. I had to make the hard choice to either force myself to sit down and write this chapter or to go get my nails done. So here I am an hour later, typing away at my computer with a new manicure :)... In other words, sorry it took so long to update.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, the title would be ****Hermione Malfoy's Adventures at Hogwarts****. I'm not JK Rowling, and the series remains to be titled Harry Potter; ****so yes, my lifelong dreams and aspirations are ruined. Bummer.**

TWO MONTHES LATER

{Draco}

If there was one thing Draco had learned over the past two months, it was that procuration Contracts were s terrible escape. The more he signed the worse the girls became and the faster they went. He had sworn to himself that he would refrain from signing one more worthless girl. Next time he would at least have his elves do a background check on the girl.

Draco glared across the table at the girl sitting there before looking back down at his copy of the Daily Prophet. She was absolutely horrid; all she spoke of was gossip and fashion, which would have been fine with the Malfoy if the girl's knowledge base was diluted with thoughts of Quiddich or wizard politics or just about anything else. Who could have thought that so much pester-some qualities could be compacted into such a tiny irksome little witch? At night, Draco would lie awake plotting ways to get ride of her. The worst part of the arrangement was that they had only been together for one week.

Her name was Pansy Parkinson, and Draco was about ready to murder her.

"Oh, Drakie!" She exclaimed from where she sat across the breakfast table. "The new summer trends are out." _I really don't care,_ Draco thought to himself, ignoring her nickname for him. He was supposed to be as fearsome as a dragon - at least that's what he hoped his parents had named him for. Who ever called a fearsome dragon Drakie?

"Yellow!" she screeched. Purely out of the sake of propriety, Draco resisted the urge to rub his sore ears and check whether or not they were still functioning. If not anything else, the past week with Pansy had saved Draco from going to a healer to check his hearing; if Pansy's constant screeches could not even ruin his ears, then he was pretty sure that his hearing wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"That just will not do!" The witch stood from her chair and started to pace across the expensive wood floor. "Draco, you absolutely must owl them immediately."

The wizard reluctantly looked back up from his newspaper; this time, however, his countenance was adorned with an exasperated expression. "Now why _exactly_ should I do that?" The words slid from the Draco's mouth coated with his trademark drawl.

"Because," Pansy continued, completely unaware of her partner's thin patience and brimming annoyance, "I look utterly horrid in yellow, and Sallize is going to pick the color for her guest of honor at her end of July party. I just know it." The tiny witch collapsed into her chair again as though she had been told that her father had died and excluded her from his will.

"So," Draco said, placing the Daily Prophet on the table. It was no use trying to read anymore, the bitch...oops, he meant witch, already had him involved him in what he guessed would be a long tiresome conversation. "How does that affect you?"

"_Because," _Pansy spoke in her own exasperated voice as though _he_ was the simpleton that had to be explained everything. "I'm going to be the guest of honor." Draco raised and eyebrow. "Okay, nothing is written in ink yet, but I'm Sallize's best friend; she can't not pick me. In fact, I would be surprised if she hasn't already decided to make me her guest of honor. She just hasn't said anything because all of the other girls would get jealous, especially her sister. That girl is a rotten one, let me tell you. Without my friendship, I should like to think that Sallize would never had made it this far in life."

_Blah. Blah. Bloody damn blah,_ Draco cursed in his head, wondering how illegal it was to magically remove a witch's vocal chords. _The wizard council will probably make an exception for Pansy,_ he concluded as Pansy concluded her own rant.

"Pansy dear," the words were like acid on his tongue. If the girl wasn't such a great bed-mate, he would never speak the words on his own account. But like his mother had always said, words and were the path to a woman's heart, while jewelery and soft kisses gained admittance to other bodily was of course the edited version of his mother's adage- the blond wizard had added the last part based off of his knowledge from prior experiences. "Why don't you take the next few days and go visit you cousin to discuss this...tragedy while I sort everything out her, okay?"

The black haired witch squealed in delight and jumped back up to her feet. "Oh thank you, Drakie. I must get ready to go right away." _The sooner the better,_ Draco thought as she swept away from the room with a flourish of color and a resounding echo of her squeals. The wizard leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He had absolutely no intention of owling anyone. His only pleasure was the knowledge that his kindness toward the witch would be rewarded handsomely later that night.

An hour and a half later and Pansy was ready to leave. Draco, having not wanted to inhale Pansy-intoxicated air any longer, held his breath in the hopes that she would leave soon. Pansy finally grabbed a handful of the magic powder and stepped into his large fireplace, when with a wail, she dropped the powder back into it's bowl on the mantle and ran toward the wizard with open arms. DEAR MERLIN! NO!, He thought to himself, she didn't seriously expect a hug from the Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately she expected just that. Said Draco Malfoy stood stock straight as she threw her arms around him and cried melodramatic tears into his goes my newest robe, He thought bitterly.

"I will owl you ever day," she had sniffed. Pulling away from him and grabbing more floo powder from the bowl. "Don't miss me too terribly." She had then stepped into the fireplace and throwing down the powder, disappeared with an exclamation of where she intended to go. Draco was then, and then only, able to exhale the breathe he had been holding. Freedom, at last.

_End Flashback_

-o-o-

Never had Draco Malfoy ever slammed the door to a room. _SLAM_. And yet, there was a first time for everything. Stripping the tear-soiled robe from his back, the wizard stormed over to his desk. It was neatly a neatly organized sturdy wooden structure that was strategically placed in front of three floor length windows and granted the inhabitant a majestic view of the Manor's grounds. But none of that concerned Draco. Instead, he angrily rummaged through a drawer of documents in search of the parchment transcribed with the official version of his latest contract. No matter how Pansy was in bed, he could not stand to be with her a moment longer. She had ruined three of his best robes already. No one, and he meant no one, ruined three of his robes and got away with it.

Upon locating the roll of parchment, Draco was greeted with disappointment. All it held was their signatures and the official authentication stamp from the Ministry of Magic. There was no step by step guide of how to get out of a Contract. Nothing. Exhaling in defeat, the Malfoy sagged back into his chair. The only way out of a Contract that he was aware of was to sign a new one, but he was tired of living with random witches he signed purely out of looks. For the first time in his life as a young wizard prodigy, Draco Malfoy was tired of women.

Two hours had past since this revelation, and the blond wizard was quite frankly bored out of his mind. He had already finished writing this weeks complaints to the Ministry of Magic while Pansy was here, having used it as an excuse to be free from her presence. With nothing else to do, he stood, pacing back and forth in front of the desk.

The sight of the Gardens that greeted him through the windows before his desk was calming but not reassuring. It was times like these that he greatly feared: times when all I could do was think. He feared thought and contemplation because he knew his thoughts would stray to his parents, which was anything but pleasant. Nothing had change over the past two months. No one except for Draco knew of their nauseating actions, and no one but Draco was concerned about what would happen to them if they were found out. If they were discovered, they would be excommunicated from the wizarding world, used as a public example, stripped of their status, stripped of their name, and _*shudder** _stripped of fortune. _Dragon shit_. He was doing it again; he was worrying over them.

"Brandy," The Malfoy heir called. Two seconds later, his least favorite house elf appeared in front of him.

"Yes, master?" The elf's scratchy voice filled the sir, irking Draco. He don't know why he had called on this elf in particular; _I should have calle__d on Faizy of Alka instead, he_ thought to himself. All Brandy did was make him angry.

"Get my hooded robes," Draco commanded him, "I'll be leaving the manor for the day."

"But sir-"

The wizard shot his elf a sharp look.

"Of course, sir." Brandy disappeared with a small pop. Memories of six year old Draco naming the elf Brandy, rushed back to him. As a child, Lucius had told Draco that things like Brandy and Firewhisky relieved pain. It was only natural for the young Malfoy to then name the elf whom healed him after the alcohol.

Four seconds past before the same elf reappeared with the same Malfoy's robe. Draco grabbed it from him and slid it on. "That will be all," Draco said, and Brandy disappeared again.

With his wand heavy in his pocket, Draco apperated to Diagon Alley, glad to be walking among some of the more sane witches and wizards of his time.

-o-o-

{Hermione}

Books. Everywhere. Hermione was in heaven. Or so that was what she told herself everyday when she woke up to go to work. It was the middle of July, and Flourish, and Blotts had just started stocking for the upcoming school year. The young witch was working double time, but she hardly minded. She had been working here for over two months now, and had come to realize how much she loved the small store. After her shift was done, she would just sit, curled up amongst the books and read anything and everything she could get her hands on. The bookshop had a large inventory, and to Hermione's delight contained many books on curse breaking and work for learning Aurors. This truly was the dream job; all she had to do was stock shelves and help direct customers for seven hours a day, seven days a week, and in return, she received knowledge and a substantial paycheck. It was utterly perfect.

In two weeks, Diagon Alley would be crowded with Hogwart's students and their families as they raided the stores in search of new school supplies. Hermione was simple overflowing with anticipation. It had always been her favorite time of year; Hogwarts was always like a home to her, and now that she had graduated from the school, she sought happiness from watching as future generations lived their own adventures at the school. When Flourish and Blotts filed with students next week, Hermione looked forward to crossing paths with a motivated student like herself. In her imagination, it would be a refreshing encounter that would enlighten Hermione's depression existence and shed new light on her future. It was a long shot, but most of Hermione's more recent dreams were.

With a sigh, the frizzy haired bookworm was brought back to reality. Pain staking, innocence devouring, heartbreaking reality. At least, that is what the wizarding world became in her mind after having read that newspaper headlines that night two months thoughts brought back memories of the difficult times she had faced after her discovery of the Wizard Procuration Contracts. She had placed herself under house arrest, fearing the threat that a mere wizard could pose to her future happiness. For a week, she had hidden in her hotel room, summoning food from the pub downstairs. One day, having finally run out of books to read and re-read, Hermione dared to apperate to Flourish and Blotts, where she curled up with a vintage edition of Hogwarts: A History. She still recalled the experience, as it was transcribed in detail in her diary that same evening:

_"In __1792__, when a __cockatrice __went loose during one of the __Triwizard Tournament__ tasks, the heads of the three schools, including one from Hogwarts, __were injured by the deadly creature." The familiar words soothed my nerves, as I let myself fall into the history of the castle that was more my home than anywhere else. So, I read on, allowing the sound of rain battering against the roof of Flourish and __B__otts to transport me back in time to a memory where Ron, Harry and I were in the Gryffindor common room watching and laughing as Fred and George experimented with-_

_I jumped as someone cleared their throat next to me, and the comforting memory crumbled to dust around me. Disheartened and weighed down by the trials of the present, I looked up into the weary face of an old man. My heart stopped in my chest; it had been the first time I had encountered a wizard since the unknown man on the street had grabbed my arm on a week ago. I could not decide on which emotion I wanted to feel more: fear or anger._

"_He looks more like a leather purse than a man," Ron's imaginary voice commented in my head. It was exactly what the red-haired boy would have said, and had he __actually been there to whisper it in my ear in his own not so subtle way the words would have promptly earned him a swat on the back of the head. _Had he actually been there, he would have been able to protect me from whatever this man wanted, I thought to myself_. Pressing my back against the bookshelf, I pulled my knees to my chest, allowing the book to tumble to the floor. In any other situation, I would have flinched as its leather spine collided with the hardwood floor, but my attention was otherwise oc__cupied._

_"What," the man asked, squinting his eyes at me as though his large, fluffy, white eyebrows were weighing down his eyelids causing them to scrunch up, "are you doing in here young lady?"_

_His voice was gruff with age, but as comforting as honey. I took that moment to asses how much of a threat he was. All I could glean from my quick appraisal of his physical appearance, was just 5'3, 110 pounds of wrinkles and sagging skin. The man seemed to be more in danger of toppling over his cane than hurting me. Regardless, he was a wizard, and so being, should not be underestimated._

_"I-I'm reading, sir," I replied in what some would consider a small voice, but I knew that there was at least some confidence behind it; I was still a Gryffindor at heart._

_The man eyed me and how I sat in a fetal position sternly over his large nose, reminding me slightly of Professor Severous Snape at Hogwarts. His eyes lastly fell on the book on the floor next to me."Now where," he pondered aloud in a voice that made his words sound less like a question and more like thought, "did you find that book?"_

_"The shelves," I squeaked as he leaned in close towards me, partly because I was worried his legs couldn't support the action and that he would topple over onto me and partly because I was still slightly weary of men._

_The old man gave me a strange appraising look as he pulled back and leaned on his haunches. I was hit with the smell of shaving cream and mint, bringing a shadow of a smile to my face; he smelled like my grandpa. "Where you looking for it or did you stumble across it?"_

"_I was looking for it" I replied, meeting his dull brown eyes with my own, feeling slighty more confident._

_"Then you may keep it, young lady, under one condition." I could barely hear what the man was saying over my own beating heart. He was going to let me keep the vintage leather bound book! Suddenly my day wasn't so bad after all. "You come and work for me." My face must have expressed my confusion at his words, because he hastily added,"Don't fret, young witch; I will pay a large amount for anyone who can navigate these shelves," he said gruffly as he laid a fond hand on the bookcase I was still leaning against,"And I care not for those Contract things, so don't you worry over that either. If you work for me-"_

_I interrupted the man by standing and throwing my arms around his neck, hiding my tears in the fabric of his robes. Yet again I was encased in the soothing smell of contrasting mint and shaving cream. Then, remembering his weak appearance, I quickly pulled away, in fear that I had harmed him. Seeing him to be fine, if not slightly frazzled, I took a deep, calming breath. "Sir, I would be honored to work here," I said in a shaky voice. Then, I held out an equally shaky hand. "My name is Hermione Granger."_

_He took my small hand in his own wrinkled one, "Flainder Blore, its a pleasure to meet you"_

On her first day of work – which happened to be the day after she was hired – Hermione was shown all around the bookstore. True to ever wizard bookstore or library, the store contained a secret archive of books. At Flourish and Blotts, the archive was cleverly hidden in a row of bookshelves; when a certain book is pulled from the self of a certain bookshelf, it triggers a mechanical device – "muggle, but effective," Mr. Flainder had said in explanation – that reveals a large three level archive.

Apparently, the edition of Hogwarts: A History Hermione had been found with the evening before had been on a shelf in the archives. Somehow, Hermione had entered the bookshops archives through a different route and then exited the archives with the book - it wasn't uncommon for there to be multiple routes in and out of the archives of a bookstore, for most archives were created with anti-apperation spells and an unnavigable labyrinth of bookshelves and wizards were notorious for building escape routes. For the above reason Hermione's salary was very high, not that she even cared about that. She loved her job regardless.

Hermione still smiles sometimes at the memory of the gruff old man. He was by far her favorite person to see everyday as he hobbled about the store muttering things like, "blimey, forgot my pumpkin juice in the back," and "Merlin's beard, that's where I left my wand" or the occasional "Bloody customers; don't know why I even let them in the front door", but the witch's all time favorite saying is when he first walks in every morning and turns to the portrait of a witch dressed in fine silk gowns that hangs next to the door and says, "You still here then Bertrude?" and she would yell some snappy comment on how she was still waiting for a hearse to come and pick him up. Everyday, he would say the same thing, and each day she would come up with some rude comment that he would just gruff at and hobble away.

From her very first day of work, Hermione grew to dislike the woman in the portrait. As her distaste of the portrait grew so to did Hermione's respect for the old man. Despite being constantly chastised by the rotten witch everyday, he still maintained an amiable attitude towards her; for that reason alone, Hermione was able to lower her guard when she was around him. Once a week, He would call the new employee into his office to discuss how the new shipments were going and whether there were any books she could suggest to him as a good read. Over the last two months, she had developed a healthy appreciation for the man, just as she suspected he had done for her.

Despite the security her new job brought her, Hermione was still weary of wizards. For the first few weeks, she had barely spoken to any male other than Mr. Flainder; and the few words she had said to them were usually scathing and spoken with malicious intent. It astounded her that these _animals _- for they hardly qualified as human or wizards at all - found it okay to treat women as property. The frizzy-haired, short tempered witch's blood boiled when she came face to face with them, and all she could think of was the poor witches that the men had claimed.

Mr. Flainder, whom Hermione had thought would be disappointed in her for her behavior toward male customers, was in fact humored by her actions. Having realized her hostility toward other males, the old man had called her into his office to discuss the problem. The witch walked in fully prepared to be fired for her behavior, and she walked out with a smile and the keys to the apartment above the bookstore. Mr. Flainder had given them to her so she wouldn't have to apperate to work early each morning and disapperate late each night. She hadn't wanted to use the space and impose on him, but the man insisted, saying that if he had a heart attack in the middle of the night, it would be nice to have someone around – for he had a bedroom of his own built into the archives of the bookstore.

Within a week of her employment, as she started to ease into the her job and began to confer better with male customers as well as control her temper, Ron sent a reply letter along with the ring to identify Hermione as belonging to another wizard. After spending a night of reading about the Procuration Contracts,she had discovered that a wizard would give the witch he possessed a symbol of his affection to prevent other wizards from trying to take her. The symbol was usually displayed in plain sight in order to make the ownership known. With the Weasley's ring on her finger, she was safe from the possessive impulses of other wizards. Of course, Hermione had to then explain to Mr. Flainder that the ring was fake and that she would never willingly be involved in a Contract.

-o-o-

{Draco}

Flourish and Blotts. It was exactly what Draco needed at the moment. He had been pointlessly strolling up and down Diagon Alley until he'd realized what could make all his problems go away – other than a 5'4 body bag. Two years ago, Lucius Malfoy had given him a book called An Escape from Procuration Contracts; at the time, Draco had thought the gift worthless and had thrown it out the very next day. However, now with Pansy to deal with, Draco knew that he would have to research Procuration Contracts, and what better way to start than a book that stated his very intent in the title. The wizard truly did want to escape from Pansy's Contract.

Where had his endeavors leads this young wizard? _Absolutely nowhere,_ Draco thought to himself in annoyance. He was currently standing in the front of the store by the employee desk. The bad news: there was no employee behind it.

"Hello?" He called, his voice echoing through the shop. There was no reply.

"_Excuse _me, mister," said an annoyed witch. Draco turned to face a large portrait of an angry woman adorned in colorful silk robes hanging by the door to the shop. "You irksome presence has woken me from my nap. And I need my beauty sleep. Now you just shut your-"

"Silencio," Draco muttered, his hand on his wand. No amount of _beauty _sleep could fix that witch. Said witch started shouting and banging on the corners of her portrait in anger, but not a single sound escaped her mouth. Unfazed by her actions, the Malfoy simply raised a delicate eyebrow at her before turning and making his way through the shelves of the bookstore. He was quite aware of Flourish and Blott's reputation as a labyrinth of books that could not be navigated by the average customer, but seeing as there were no employees around, Draco planned to take his chances.

Three hours later and Draco had begun to regret his choice of taking on the bookshelves by himself. Every attempt he had made to find his book had been met with defeat. Now, as he wandered down yet another row of shelves, following the alphabetical title sequence, he reached the beginning of the books starting with "E". Once again, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. That was until the titles randomly jumped from "E" to "R". The sequence went from Enchanting for Dummies, Eluding the Magical Creatures of Hogwarts, and Easy Steps to Capture the Heart of that Special Witch to Reapplying Defense Spells and Revolutionary Wizards of the 16th Century.

Draco swore and banged his fist against the bookshelf. Spinning around angrily, he pulled his wand from the pocket in his robes and tried to apperate from the store. It didn't work. _Oh great, anti-apperation spells,_ Draco thought bitterly to himself as he walked off down yet another aisle of books, switching his search for his book into a search for an exit. Then, rounding a corner, he ran into a floating pile of books. The person behind the books let out a strangled cry as he or she toppled to the ground and the books following in his or her suite.

"Levioso," Draco said in surprise, levitation the books off of the person and into a sloppy pile on the floor next to them. His action revealed a tiny, frizzy-haired witch, whom though sitting on her bum managed to sport a dignified, Malfoy-worthy glare.

"Oh, good, an employee," Draco sneered down at the girl, remembering where he was. " I hope you know that your little bookshop here has gone utterly bonkers. I've been stuck in her for over three hours and still haven't found my bloody book."

The witch, whom suddenly grew, in Draco's opinion, unnecessarily angry at him stood up and poked a finger at his chest. "No, not _your_ book; it's our book. Don't you wizards have something better to do than to just walk around claiming things that don't belong to you?"

Draco merely rolled his eyes as the witch poked him repetitively in the chest to emphasize her words. The glint of a ring on her finger caught his attention, and the Malfoy very nearly laughed. _So_, he thought to himself in amusement, _the feisty little thing has been claime__d. I pity the wizard. _She was obviously upset over a Procuration Contract, but that didn't mean Draco had to care.

"Look, lady," He said, grabbing her finger as it made another attempt to poke him. "I don't give a damn whose book it is. Keep it if you want. Just tell me how to jet out of this cursed shop_._

The fiesty frizz-head blinked at him in surprise, but said nothing. "Oh, forget it," Draco snapped, turning away.

"Your-your in the archives," he heard her whisper in incredulity. Draco frowned at her words but kept walking. So that was why he there were anti-apperating spells.

"Wait!" The witch called after him. Draco kept on walking; he listened as her footsteps got closer and closer. Then, he felt her hand grab a fist full of his robes. He stopped suddenly, angry at her for daring to touch him, and received a sliver of pleasure as she ran into him and fell back to the ground. The Malfoy, despite being trained to create an emotionless mask out of his countenance could not hide the small smile that crept onto his face at the expense of this tiny witch's clumsiness. _The muggle saying 'Walk much or just read about it' truly did apply to this bookworm, _Draco thought, applauding himself on the fact that he did remember something from Professor Burbage's horrid muggle studies class. He started walking again.

"You won't be able to got out of the archives without my help."

Draco stopped yet again and taking a calming breath, turned to face the girl sitting on the floor. "You have my attention," he snapped, "don't waste it."

The young witch pulled herself up onto her feet and approached the young wizard. "What book were you looking for?"

"An Escape from Procuration Contracts."

The witch adopted a doubtful look and allowed a small laugh to escape her mouth. She looked up at Draco to see if he was serious. Seeing that he was, she pulled herself together, and said, "Fine, follow me," before staring off into the maze of books with Draco on her heels.

"Here," She said stopping at a book self a few minutes later and pulling out a book. She held it out to him, and he took it, confirming that the title read the same as the book he was looking for and had now found. "Is that all, or will you be needing anything else?" The Malfoy looked down at her sudden businesslike manner, and he noted with with surprise her successful transformation from an emotion driven witch to a emotionless employee. _She's good_, he thought to himself, _but not Malfoy good_.

"Actually," Draco drawled on, meeting her brown eyes with his own. He'd always loved annoying people, and this witch made the pleasure simply irresistible. He watched in amusement her jaw clenched. "I'd like to know your system for organizing these books, because I'm pretty sure it is hazardous to the health of wizards everywhere. What if a unfortunate wizard like myself got stuck in these shelves and couldn't get out?" The question was overtly layer in false concern, and he could see that it grated on the girlie's nerves.

"The only thing unfortunate about that would be if you somehow manage to not die in the maze of shelves," the witch hissed before turning and walking away. "Page 78," she called over her back before disappearing.

"Bloody brilliant," Draco muttered to himself, realizing that once again, he was stuck in the bookshop with no way out. He flipped open the book the nasty witch had given him. 75.76.77. A small piece of folded flutter to the floor as he flipped to the next page. Draco looked down at the page number. 78. _Crazy witch, _he thought to himself, reaching down to pick up the folded sheet that had fallen. On it was a hand drawn map or the bookstore. Apparently there were three levels of archives. _No wonder I'd gotten lost_, Draco thought to himself as he stood and followed a line on the map out of the archives and into the bookstore.

When the Malfoy reached the front of the store again, he stormed right out of the shop without bothering to pay for the book. Just like before, there was no employee at the desk, and Draco was not going to wait around for one to simply appear. At least he got satisfaction from watching the witch in the portrait glare at him in angry silence before he left.

**What did you guys think? I'm not going to be one of those people that type 'review' in capitol letters – or at least I'm not after I deleted my "REVIEW REVIW REVIEW" lecture that I had previously typed here. But seriously, it will really help me out if you guys share your feelings about this story. A special thanks to all of you who have already reviewed. Thanks to you guys, I decided to keep up this fanfic. Until next week, or maybe the week after that... -Emerald**


	3. Chapter 3: A Stumbled Upon Solution

**I'm liking the reviews guys! Keep it up and I'll update faster :) Seriously though, all these positive comments make me want to write more chapters. Oh, and this is kind of off topic, but I just got this awesome pen that has a hidden flash drive in it, so every time I type a new chapter, I also kind of feel like a secret agent :D. Sorry, I get way to excited over these things.**

**Here is your update Amnex. And yes music_loving_bookworm, I too was a little worried about how the whole 'women as possessions' thing would work out, but I needed the idea for my plot line, so I hope my story makes up for the terrible summary I posted.**

{Draco}

_Dear Mister Draco Malfoy,_

_It has come to our attention here at Flourish and Blotts that you are in possession of the following book: __An Escape from Procuration Contracts__. Seeing as there is no history of payment for this book, it is necessary to inform you that some type of transaction must be made. The unpaid fee for this book is two would prefer for you to owl us the money; however, if you have any questions or concerns, you are more than welcome to stop by our store in Diagon Alley. Good day._

_Sincerely, Hermione Granger, employee at Flourish and Blotts_

The cost was only two galleons, but Draco felt as though it was much worse. For a wizard so high up in society, any little mess up could be his downfall. Even the smallest of mishaps could be twisted and configured into misshapen lies that the press would plaster across the newspapers. He could practically see the headlines now: "Youngest Malfoy Becomes Bored of Rich Life and Embraces a Life of Crime".

In his line of work, even Draco's shadows had enemies; everyone was trying to find the dirt on him. The wizards was an idol of perfection, and the public expected for him to be no less than a god of some type. As thus, flaws in his character were absolutely banned. But Draco did have flaws, and even thought they were banned from the sight of the public eye, they haunted him when he was alone. Thoughts of his dishonorable parents and his now blemished family name plagued him every night. What if someone were to discover them? It was a question he always asked himself.

Then there was his most recent conquest, Pansy. Rather than making him feel better, the witch had transformed his life into a burning pit of hell. The public saw her as this beautiful angel that had captured the heart of the youngest Malfoy. However, underneath her false public image,, Pansy was a ignorant, loud, ungrateful witch. Because Draco was tied to her through their Contract, he too became flawed by affiliation. These things bothered the wizard more than anything, but Draco had also come to realize that hastily moving onto another witch, although ideal, would cause nothing but trouble in the end.

_What is happening to me_, Draco thought, running his hands through his already dishelved hair. The Malfoy heir wouldn't have been surprised to look in the mirror and see his image tarnished by bald spots in his perfectly platinum colored hair; the last week had easily been the most stressful epoch of his life. He would even go so far as to admit that it was worse than the week before his N.E.W.T.S. during his seventh year at Hogwarts. The reason behind this was as simple as it was angering. Pansy Parkinson, who had quickly rose to become Draco's most detested witch or wizard, had invited her family to live at the Malfoy Manor. Draco's very manhood was in question as he had watched the Parkinson family invade his private sanctum of peace with their loud voices, ever-present complaining, and blatant stupidity.

At dinner one evening, Draco had nearly suffered a heart attack when Pansy mentioned little Pansy-Draco babies running about the Manor. The vivid mental image of tiny devilish creatures with platinum blond hair, Pansy's pug-like nose, and Draco's eyes caused the wizard to choke on the unfortunate spoonful of beef stew he had swallowed. The whole scene was rather unbecoming of such a well-mannered Malfoy. However, Draco had little time to fret about his etiquette in the presence of the Parkinson family. Soon he was caught up in yet another conversation centered around public gossip. There was a point in which Draco wondered whether his long-contemplated act of murdering the Parkinson family would bring dishonor to his name. Upon farther thought he was pretty sure that if one of his ancestors had come into such close contact with a Parkinson, the Malfoy name would have been more famous for its criminal record than its prestige and wealth. However, before the thoughts became actions, Pansy did the unthinkable.

Draco had been kind in letting her family visit the Malfoy Estate, and he had shown more restraint than he had thought possible in resisting the temptation of strangling his current female companion. However, there was an end to Draco's generosity, despite the fact that more people considered the start of said generosity to be nonexistent. When Pansy had offered her parents to reside permanently at _his _home, Draco considered it to be the last straw - the first having been signing a Contract with the witch. He was the man of the house, not her, and Draco had proceeded to tell her just that...more or less.

_Flashback:_

_"Drakie, don't you just love my parents?" Draco nodded absently to Pansy's nasally voice. The best thing that had come out of the past two weeks was the development of Draco's newest skill: tuning out Pansy. At the time, the Malfoy was envisioning himself on a far, far, far away island that happened to be -believe it or not- far away from Pansy. On the island he was relaxing by himself with no noise or-_

_"Mom. Dad. Draco and I have something very important to tell you," Pansy said excitedly, laying a hand of Draco's knee. "I was thinking, and I want you guys to move in with us!"_

There is absolutely no way in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that is going to happen, _Draco thought to himself in a surprisingly calm manner. The witch could talk his ear off and annoy him to no end, but no matter who the person was, Draco would never allow him or her to override his authority. The elder Parkinson were staring to thank their daughter for the gracious offer when the real master of the house interrupted their insignificant words._

_"I hate to be the bearer of bad news - even if it is good news for me -, but as the living custodian to these Estates, I downright refuse to provide permanent residence to you," Draco Malfoy said in a chillingly calm voice. He did not need to raise his voice or stand from the couch he was leaning back to get this points across, because when a powerful wizard like him spoke with such conviction everybody listened. "You have polluted my house with your lack of propriety and abundant obnoxiousness. No longer will you all destroy the peace and solitude that previously existed in my house hold." The almost tangible shock that radiated off the other three individuals in the room was nearly laughable. "Pansy may stay seeing as she is the presiding mistress of the Manor, but all others must leave. I suggest for you to be gone before I return." With that, Draco spun on his heel and made his own exit before any of the Parkinsons could react to what had happened. _At least their slow mental capacities came into use for once_, Draco thought as he stormed down the hallway to his office. _

_"Faizy," He called as he walked._

_"Does Master need anything?" The elf appeared to Draco's side, but the wizard walked past the creature at a brisk pace. Having slaved under the Malfoy for the past three years, the female elf knew well enough to gather her rags of clothing close to her body and dash after the wizard._

_"Prepare one of the guest rooms for Pansy; she will no longer sleep in my bed. Make sure that it is the farthest room from my own." Draco commanded, and noticing his elf's distress at not being able to keep up with his pace, he slowed down. Despite his pleasure in other people's pain, the Malfoy found no satisfaction in overworking or hurting his staff. Having grown up under the strict rules of Lucius Malfoy, Draco knew how hard it was to obey orders and how easy it was to rebel against them. Even thought elves were notorious for their loyalty, Draco wasn't inclined to unnecessarily anger the elves the made his food and were allowed entrance into his bedchambers. _I'm not paranoid,_ Draco had told himself and on occasion his mother, _I'm just precautious. _He still treated the elves as slaves, and the lowly dirt that they were, but her saw no need to torture them. That was all._

_"Is that everything, Master?" Faizy asked, trying to secure her rags to her boney body so they wouldn't fall off._

_"No, I need you to change the sheets on my bed once more, and bring me a glass of fire whiskey. That will be all for now." _

_End of Flashback_

All of that had occurred yesterday, and so far, the blond wizard was enjoying the results. Pansy downright refused to speak to him or even stand in his presence for long periods of time. The couple's public image was hardly affected. Because Pansy cared s much about her image, the girl would act just as in love with Draco as she had before. Draco's only regret was that he hadn't done this earlier. The sole consequence of his action was Pansy's physical absence from his bed at night, but the wizard actually welcomed a full night's rest for a change.

Not only was Draco in higher spirits by this new arrangement, but so were the house elves. On his way down from the main stairway, Draco heard one of the elves, he presumed Brandy, singing a badly tuned song about Pansy struggles as she walked up the four and a half flights of stairs to her bedroom in one of the manors left-wing towers. In the song, Pansy fell on her bum an unrealistic number of times as she tumbled down all the stairs until she hit the bottom. The next verse of the song had to do with Pansy lying cripple on the ground with no one to help her.

Had Draco not thought the song to be entertaining, he would had at least taken the moment as a reminder of a house elves' sense of brutality. However, Draco did enjoy the song. The subject was rather morbid, the notes pitchy, and the lyrics questionable in some places, but the song reminded the Malfoy of his own thoughts against Pansy. Of course, his methods of killing the witch were much more imaginative and better planned.

Later in the day, Draco scolded Brandy for singing the song and warned the elf that next time it could be Pansy who hears the elf singing. As stupid as the girl was, she was still a witch, and Brandy was just an elf; Draco did not want to have to buy and train a new house elf because Brandy went and sang the wrong song to the wrong audience.

Unfortunately, the Malfoy's problems were bigger than the safety of his house elves; over the last week, he had neglected certain responsibilities he had in town. The letter from Flourish and Blotts had reminded him of this.

"Faizy bring my robes," Draco called, standing and picking up the book he was going to return to the store. He hadn't opened the book or even glanced at it after returning from the bookshop._ It's ironic how now that I have time to read it, I have no need because all my problems are solved, _Draco thought to himself before Faizy returned to his room.

-o-o-

The rain came out of nowhere. One second the sky was bright and clear, and the next it was down pouring as though Merlin was ringing out the clouds like a dirty rag. A dry humored smile tugged at the corners of Draco's mouth because of his muggle analogy. _At least I could make Professor Burbage proud, _He thought to himself, remembering the way she used to glower at him when he had whispered audible jokes about the worthlessness of her class during some of her more tiresome lessons. What would they possible use the muggle information for other than juvenile jokes and strange similes? Nonetheless, It was raining hippogriffs outside, and the Malfoy was getting wet and annoyed.

Without bothering to cast a shield charm, he walked into the closest store: Flourish and Blotts. The familiar smell of withering parchment filled his nose seconds before the wail of an irksome witch filled his ears. "Won't you shut the door! I absolutely refuse to endure water damage to my paint job. Do you know how many galleons I have spent on this paint? All you wizards do is vex me; you have no concern for my poor nerves. You have no respect for my-"

_"_Silencio," Someone shouted from the bookshelves, and the portrait witch's voice was immediately cut off.

Draco cast a vexed look at the portrait. "Looks no one here gives a shit about your paint job," he said before heading into the shelves to find the girl who had cast the spell whom he presumed to be an employee. As he past the front desk, he unsurprisingly noticed that yet again no one stood behind it. _No wonder the letter arrived so fast, _Draco thought to himself. _If the employees at this shop didn't send out letters to people who walk out of the store without paying for their books, the shop would never receive any revenue.._

The young Malfoy was making his way through the aisles of bookshelves for the second time in the past two weeks, but this time, he knew better. Before each turn he made, the he paused a second to memorize his location and form an exit plan in his head. He had absolutely no intention of staying in the store for more than the five minutes it would take to find an employee and return his book. Amongst his mental maps of the store and thoughts of what else he needed to do that day, Draco was all too distracted.

As he walked down yet another aisle, he allowed himself to be absorbed by his thoughts, and hardly saw the witch standing upon a strange muggle device with stairs on it. Completely unaware of his surroundings, Draco charged right into the ladder a young witch employee was standing on to stack books.

A shocked scream resonated through the air and was soon followed by a crash as both the ladder and witch toppled to the ground, whereas the wizard who caused this merely swayed before regaining his balance. A soft grunt escaped Draco's mouth when the spine of the book the witch had been holding collided with the back of his head. The book then tumbled to the floor where it lay cover up on the ground.

"Damn book," Draco cursed as he rubbed the bump forming on his head. _Who even wants to read about ...__Fifty Shades of Dismay__ , _he thought to himself in irritation as he read the title of the book off of where the leather bundle lay on the hardwood floor.

That was when he remembered the witch he had knocked over. He quickly moved toward her and held a hand out to help her up. Draco Malfoy prided himself in the thought that he was except from the statement "chivalry is dead'. Be that the case, Draco Malfoy was no stranger to rude remarks and antagonism.

The forgotten witch, rather that excepting his hand, glared up at the blond wizard in disgruntled anger. "I suppose your expecting an apology." Her words started Draco. It was of course the same girl he had run into last, and with her was the same sharp tongue that she had carried before. She was rubbing what he assumed to be a similar bump on her head and shifting her glare so it became more accusatory. _Yes_, Draco thought to himself considering what the witch had said and retracting his helping hand, _I do in fact expect an apology. One does not simply leave a large, hazardous, muggle contraption in a small aisle of a bookstore with full knowledge that customers are expected to walk through said aisles. _What was this witch trying to do? Kill someone?

A minute passed in silence, both the witch and wizard looking at the other. One looked in expectation, and the other looked in patient amusement. Suddenly, understanding flooded the witch's countenance followed closely by anger. "You little-" she let out an aggravated sound rather than an actual swear, causing Draco to let out a dignified snort in amusement. "You don't honestly expect _me_ to apologize when _you _were the one who knocked me over ," she shouted, moving to get up off the floor by herself, "Who do you think you are? I'll tell you exactly what you-" As soon as she had managed to stand on her feet, the girl collapsed back to the ground, interrupting herself in the process. Her hand flew to her fore-head, and her eyes fluttered closed as her body swayed forward.

Draco recognized the signs of a person who was about to pass out, and swallowed his irritation with a bit of difficulty. "Apology accepted," He drawled, kneeling in front of the girl. The press would have a field day if they got word of the Malfoy assaulting a witch twice within two weeks. It mattered not that none of this was his fault; he had to deal with it anyway. Draco couldn't have anyone suing him or listing any complains; it would kill his reputation. He noticed from the gleam of an emerald ring on her finger of the hand she rubbed her head with that the girl was claimed, which meant even more trouble for him if she decided to press charges. It wasn't that his people couldn't stop her from pressing charges publicly or that they couldn't keep her silent. It was that anything Draco's assistants did was somehow reported back to his parents, and if word of a hushed up scandal reached the elder Malfoys there would be Hell to pay. The peaceful period of ignoring each other's existences would end.

The not so forgotten witch's eyes fluttered open, to Draco's relief, only to glare at him once more. At that moment, Draco saw something more than a bookstore employee in the girl's eyes. He didn't see the strong-willed witch that would stand her ground for what she thought was right. He didn't see the witch that spoke her mind like she had to him to week before. No, what Draco Malfoy the billionaire, wizard, and prequel to playboys everywhere saw were small delicate features that curved into a the tiny chin that was held stubbornly in the air, sharp brown eyes that seemed to challenge Draco's very existence, and light brown hair that fell around her face in a tangled mess. _The girl is hot, or at least has potential to be hot,_ Draco thought approvingly.

And so, the wizard started a mental list of all the things he would need to do to fix the girl up. There were only a few touch ups to be made. The first was her hair; he was pretty sure his house elves had trimmed bushes wilder than the curls that framed that beautiful face. Draco realized the second flaw when she started talking again; although her voice was soft and nice to hear, the crisp attitude behind it made him worry over whether the girl was fit to take out in public. Now that he thought of it, her eyebrows also needed some help. _Faizy might be able to touch up the girl's the hair if I gave her a chainsaw_, he thought to himself in amusement at yet another muggle joke.

_If I could mold this girl into the trophy witch I need, all my problems would be solved, _the Malfoy realized. A plan came together in his head. The girl was a nobody; he would take her and work on her for a few months, teaching her to act properly and speak little. Then, when the time was right, he would claim her and in the process get rid of Pansy. When it was all over, Draco would be left with a witch who didn't nag him. _This girl will be so thankful for the opportunity I'm giving her that she will do _ anything_ I ask, _ Draco figured. The plan was foolproof.

"Please stop staring at me and help me," the witch repeated in a snappy tone, subtly flashing the hand with a ring in it. Just like that, all of his plans crumbled to dust before his eyes. Draco almost growled in anger_. Bloody hell._

"Here," he slightly growled aloud unable to help himself anymore. "Episkey," He murmured, and the bump on her head disappeared. The girl let out a relieved breath and stood up next to the brooding wizard. Said wizard considered whether to stand up next to her or stay where he was and inhale the smell of cinnamon that her movement had stirred in the air.

After a moment of contemplation, Draco stood. The witch had turned away from him and was trying to lift the wooden muggle staircase thingy. Draco took the opportunity to examine her better. _She is so tiny,_ he realized as he was forced to tilt his head to look down at her. _In a pair of heels, she would be the perfect size,_ He thought to himself and then criticized himself for the thought. Yes, she was pretty, and she would probably boost his social standing, but she was taken, and the truth was she's just another witch, and there were dozens more. Hell, there were trillions more.

"I'm looking for a book that -" Draco started to lie. He was trying to bid his time and see how long he could spend with the witch. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could find out who had claimed her and then try to convince the wizard into claiming another witch so that the Malfoy could have the bookworm to himself. It was a very Slytherin thing to do, but he was desperate for a new type of girl.

"Yes," she interrupted, her back still turned to him as she managed to maneuver the contraption back into its original position. "That makes sense considering the fact that you're in a bookshop."

Draco had to physically force himself not to let any angry thoughts slip out through his tongue."It's called A Four Letter Word," Draco lied again through gritted teeth. The blonde had no idea whether or not the book he had just said even existed, but it seemed like there was a good chance it did.

"Funny, you hardly seemed the type to know about love," the witch replied venomously.

The words slipped out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them. "And you hardly look the type to know about a good fuc-"

"Blast-ended skunk!" The sound of an old man swearing interrupted him. "Forgot the pumpkin juice, again."

Draco looked up, unsurprised but angered by the interruption. He had heard that the old man who owned the store was bonkers. When the sound of the old man's footsteps disappeared, the Malfoy turned back to the witch. He mentally checked his anger and prepared to apologize but stopped. The witch was covering her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing, and the action gave Malfoy a better view of the ring she wore.

With a shock, he recognized the emerald stone set in the gold band. It was the Weasley family ring. He had gone to Hogwarts with the boisterous Weasley family and hated every second of their shared company. The only time the family had ever interested him was one day during his seventh year when the youngest, a girl, had brought her mother's heritage ring with her to Hogwarts, and her brother, Rolland or something like that, had gotten into a fight with her over the ring in the middle of the Great Hall. Supposedly the ring belonged to the, but the sister refused to give it to him. In the end, the boy took the ring from his sister and she stormed out of the Hall. However, the scene had caught Draco's attention, and he ventured near enough to the Gryffindor table to catch a glance of the object. It was that same object that now rested on the witch's finger.

"Look in aisle 14," the girl told him before walking away from the shocked wizard. She added over her shoulder, "It is between Gilderoy Lockhart's Gadding with Ghouls and Year of the Yeti."

Without bothering to question why the book was in with Lockhart's abominable pieces of literature, Draco turned from the scene of the retreating witch. Rubbing his head to fight against the returning headache, How could the girl have been claimed by Weasley. Draco had made it a point to find out about any wizard who partook in the treasonous act of marriage, and nearly two months ago, the Weasley boy had done just that.

Distracted yet again by his thoughts, Draco turned and looked back at the aisle to find which number it was. However, there was no number or any identification of any kind on any of the shelves. _Aisle 14, my ass,_ he mentally cursed. Before yet again storming out of the bookstore with the intent of owling the money for his book back to the shop.

-o-o-

"AHA!" Draco Malfoy shouted, his voice echoing across his room. At the moment, he sat at his desk with a roll of parchment in his hands and villainous triumphant showing in his face. After returning from the bookshop the other day, he had owled one of his friends from Hogwarts, enquiring after the Weasley boy and the ring he held claim to. In the responding letter, Draco's mate explained how the red-haired wizard had recently married and was happily living with the - in Draco's mind - not so lucky witch in Scotland. Included was a picture of the couple. The girl in the image was definitely not the witch in the bookstore.

That meant three things: the witch was an imposter, she wasn't claimed by Weasley, and Draco now had leverage over said witch. The Malfoy only cared about two of those things.

**Sorry that this chapter is only in Draco's POV, but when I wrote it, I thought that his perspective would be most amusing. Which POV do you guys like better? Hermione's or Draco's? The future chapters depend on these answers so make sure you guys review.**

**Also, has anyone noticed Draco's little habit? Here is a hint: Draco does this either before he gets a new girl or after he gets rid of a girl. Review with your thoughts; maybe I will update faster if someone gets it right ;)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Nerve of a Blond Wizard

**Okay, so I'm going to start by addressing the reviews. If you just want to read the story than skip this; it wont hurt my feelings :) BUT READ THE END A/N!**

**LimitedEternity: Haha! I agree. I have read countless fanfictions with a Hermione who shamelessly throws away the conservative, brave personality that many of us fell in love with throughout the Harry Potter series. Your right, Draco has no idea what he is about to get into, and Hermione has no idea of all the plans Draco has for her. However, I'm going to try and throw a few twists into the story so that my plot line isn't too predictable ;)**

** :**** Thank you! And yeah, my spelling sucks :)**

**Music Loving Bookworm:**** Thanks for the recommendations! I will work to include both perspectives into my writing; I too like a chapter with multiple POVs. Poor Draco has to share the page with Hermione, haha.**

**They Call Me Snow:**** Okay, I have to ask. Do people really call you Snow? Because that is awesome :) And yes, that is his little habit. Sorry if it was a little bit obvious, but I was trying to get a bit more reviews by asking. **sheepish face***

**Thank-you to everyone who reviewed. You guys are so positive! I love you all! **

**Disclaimer: I think you know my little secret by now. I'm not JK Rowling, and I don't own Harry Potter. I guess the cat is out of the bag now. Darn. **

**{Draco}**

The last two hours of Draco's life had been wasted with an utter broomhead of a wizard. _Unbelievable, _Draco thought to himself in irritation. If one day every wizard was as empty headed as that oaf, the wizarding world as he knew it was doomed. Unfortunately, Draco needed people like that in society; he needed the stupid rich people to support him so that he could become more and more influential. _Regardless of how much they help me, I still hate them, _Draco thought in conclusion as he briskly walked through the front door of his Estates and down the hall to his study, his footsteps echoing through the air.

For the first time in Draco's three days of planning about how to confront the bookstore employee, he realized that he did not even know the witch's name. For the life of him, he could not recall her ever telling him he name; it was of little consequence, however. After sending several owls to Flourish and Blotts, the majority of being complaints about the lack of convenience presented by an empty employee desk, Draco leaned back in his chair pondering the situation that had presented itself to him.

Yesterday, he had sent his final owl, and this time, he sent it to the Ministry of Magic rather than Flourish and Blotts. It was a petition for a new Procuration Contract and a notice to suspend his preexisting Contract with Pansy. Draco expected a reply this afternoon; he knew exactly what the letter would contain: a document with the ministry seal and two empty line for the signatures of both participating parties, permission to sign another witch, and a second document voiding his previous Contract. Now, all Draco needed to do was to wait for the owl to arrive, then he would be off to the book shop. The young Malfoy knew better that to walk into the shop with a blank document and demand for the feisty witch to sign her freedom away to him. He was not stupid; the witch would most certainly refuse to sign her name, and the old man who owned the shop would back her up if they got into an argument about superiority. The old grinch was a traditionalist after all.

No, Draco was not going to give the witch a chance to refuse him, not that refusal was even an option. However, Draco had heard word of an incident outside of curse breaking agency a few months ago about a witch declining a wizard's demand for a Procuration Contract, and then the witch threatening the persistent wizard with her wand when he became physical. Despite that fact that the witch's actions were threatening to the wizard society's new trending marriage substitute, the witch had escaped punishment by disappearing without a trace. When the news surfaced a couple a weeks ago about this incident, witches everywhere were either outraged by the girl's actions or proud of her for standing up to the man. Never before had a witch stood her ground t a wizard; they were raised to respect their superiors and to be submissive.

From the little Draco knew about his bookstore witch, he was sure that she had some objection to Procuration Contracts. Then there was her feisty attitude to take into account. Draco did not want to the witch to feel that she had a choice in the matter; he was the dominant figure and would be treated as such. Therefore, Draco had also sent a owl to Flourish and Blotts with a request for a description of a book he had absolutely no interest in. His plan was to get the feisty witch of his to reply and sign her name at the bottom so that he could forge it on the Procuration Contract. The reason his plan would work was simple. Wizards did not care whether the witches actually sign the Contracts; if the with's name was printed on the line in a similar style to the witch's actual signature, it was evidence enough. Draco also knew that Flourish and Blotts was currently only employing only a single witch due to her exceptional skills and was reassured that it would be her who responded to his letter.

All of Draco's work investigating the witch was about to pay off. Now, all he had to do was claim his goods.

**{Hermione}**

_I am so bored,_ Hermione thought to herself bitterly. She sat behind the employee desk at the front of Flourish and Blotts. Apparently, Mr. Flainder had received multiple exceedingly long letters of complaint from a powerful wizard who wrote on and on about how there was never an employee behind the desk. Mr. Curtis, the short, pudgy, red-faced wizard Mr. Flainder had hired to help manage the store then placed Hermione in charge of the desk.

It was only the third day of Hermione's torturous task, and she was already sick of it. She had spent the last five hours fiddling with random quills and other stationary. Despite the fact that she was in a bookstore and could just read a book to entertain herself, Hermione refused to give in to the pleasure. She took her job way to seriously; if Mr. Curtis were to walk in and see her reading a book instead of 'attending to the desk', as he called it, she would be in quite a bit of trouble. Mr. Flainder would certainly not fire her over such a trivial matter, but Hermione respected the man and planned to show her respect through her dedication.

The first day had been comprised of Hermione arguing with Bertrude, the pester-some portrait by the door. Arguing with the portrait seemed better that doing nothing at the time. Soon, however, Bertrude was getting on Hermione's every nerve, and some choice words were shared.

_Flashback:_

_Hermione was thrumming her fingers against the wood of the employee desk, her eyes glued to the door of the shop praying that someone, anyone, would walk into the store. She had been standing behind the desk for the past two hours with little else to do than staring at the door._

"_A desperate expression never looked attractive on a young girl's face," Bertrude suddenly lectured Hermione, "and you, my dear, are no exception."_

_Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath before turning to look at the portrait with a calm facade hiding her agitated countenance. What the witch really wanted to do was ask how a murderous expression looked on a young witch's face, because Hermione was sure that if she had to spent the rest of the day alone in Bertrude's company that she would most certainly be wearing that expression. Instead, the witch said, "Is that so?"_

"_Yes, it most certainly is," Bertrude exclaimed in her grating, nasally voice, "If you keep that up, you will end up with worry lines in your forehead and no one will ever want anything to do with you. Listen to my advice and you will end up like a beautiful lady like me. I bet you could not even tell that I am a day over thirty. It must be my natural beauty, but don't worry, you aren't too shabby for your age. In a few years you will be lucky if you looked like that old bother Flainder Blore"_

_Hermione wearily look in the wrinkle marks on the portrait's face that looked suspiciously like worry lines. She was pretty sure that the witch was at least double her listed age, however, Hermione was too polite to tell the portrait that. "You appear to be very confident in your advice," Hermione observed._

"_Well, when you possess my beauty, it is hard to not be proud and confident in yourself."_

"_That's debatable"_

"_Excuse me what was that?"_

"_I said that you make complete sense and that I should listen to you more often." Hermione quickly tried to change the subject. "I haven't the slightest idea why I hadn't thought of that myself."_

"_Oh don't worry yourself. The truth is that some of us just aren't as smart as others." The portrait said looking at Hermione with what seemed to be a newfound appreciation. "It is important that you hear this, and I have wanted to say this for the longest time. However propriety held me hostage, and it is rude to criticize houng women you are not yet affiliated with. Now that we seem to have established a foundation of friendship, I feel obligated to tell you, however." _

_Hermione wanted to bang her head against the desk. What had she done to deserve this? Was it payback for the time she had taken to adjust to having to deal with male customers? Was it because she had forgotten to brush her teeth three times in a row last week? Maybe it was due to the fact that Hermione just didn't fit in the wizarding community. _

"_Honestly," Bertrude continued, "You really are not very pretty, and I fear you are not all that smart either. In all actuality, I feel that the old bat, Flainder Blore, is going blind. He must be in order to employ a witch such as yourself. How disgraceful; you hadn't even been claimed at the time. My dear, you resemble a bush more than a witch. This store is a prestigious institute of thought; we cannot be polluted with such filth." The portrait witch released a deep calming breath and smiled at Hermione. "I feel so much better after getting that off my chest. We will be the best of friends, I can already tell." _

_Hermione stared at the portrait, trying to decide how to respond. She herself had already spent hours at a time worrying over all the things Bertrude just brought up. Her hair was rather bushy. She was born from muggles, and despite that fact that she loved her parents very much, the witch couldn't help but feel like she did not belong in the wizarding world. Then of course there was the pressure of being the only employee at Flourish and Blotts, a store that did in fact have a respectable reputation. The only sentiment Bertrude had shared that Hermione did not in fact worry over was that she was not involved in a Procuration Contract. Bertrude might have been fooled by the Weasley ring at the time being, but Hermione knew that it was false. Hermione was not concerned with her lack of a Procuration Contract, but, like any other girl, she did feel the sadness of isolation. She had no one there for her, no one to talk to about her fears, no one to share her happiness of finding a new book with, and no one to offer a shoulder to cry on. Mr, Flainder might have been a nice old man, but he was not exactly applicable to the previous situations. _

"_Thank you," Hermione whispered quietly, "for that enlightening speech."_

_Bertrude seemed oblivious to Hermione's interior conflict. "No problem at all, deary. Don't worry about the fact that in a few years you will be too ugly for men to even send a second glance at. Or that you will be alone for the rest of your life; how long is that exactly? Sixty or seventy years? Imagine the torture of having to get up in the morning to such an empty life. Pity really. I do remember you saying that you had a cat when you were younger. What was its name? Creepshanks."_

"_Crookshanks," Hermione corrected, angered slightly by the direction in which Bertrude was heading._

"_Ah yes," the portrait witch waved an uncaring hand. "maybe your fondness of cats is a sign. It must be a prediction of your future isolation." Hermione frowned at Bertrude's words. At Hogwarts she once took a Divination class. In short, Hermione had a unpleasant experience with the teacher. It took quite a bit to spark a physical reaction from the passive, feisty witch. However, third year was hard on Hermione. She had taken up nearly double he amount of classes required of her and on top of her workload, Harry Potter, one of her good friends, was going through a family crisis, so to speak. Hermione had to help him through his troubles at home while also keeping up with all of her classes. Something had to give, and sooner rather than later, Hermione found herself arguing with a Professor in front of a class filled with third years._

_Hermione was now looking down at the dark wood desk as Bertrude continued to rant on and on about Hermione's future of misfortune and short-comings. Finally, it all just became too much. Hermione was allowed to feel sorry for herself every now and then. But her flaws were her own business, and her silence was no invitation for a rude witch like Bertrude to verbally put her down. _

"_Bertrude," Hermione said coldly, "Stop. I don't care what your opinion is of me, my actions, or my appearance. Your insults are uncalled for and quite frankly improper. I'm sure that if I wanted to, I could spend hours taking about how your hair reminds me of the end of an dirty, old broom or how your voice sounds like a cat tethered to the end of a ceiling fan. Maybe I could go so far as to say that I haven't the slightest inkling of an idea why any decently educated wizard would create a portrait of you."_

_There was a short silence as Hermione's final words echoed through the shop. If a customer walked in at this very moment, they would be greeted with the sight of a short frizzy-haired witch standing behind a tall employee desk and glaring up at an equally angry portrait. The tension in the air was nearly tangible as the fire in the short witch's eyes met the icy glare in the portrait witch's eyes._

"_Well, I never!" Bertrude gasped. "I have seriously misjudged you. You truly are an abominable witch."_

"_Trust me," Hermione snapped. "Of all people, I know best how prone you are to judging others. It is no surprise that you do that wrong as well."_

"_You unfathomable creature! I will be overjoyed if for the rest of my existence I never speak to you again."_

"_Fine," Hermione responds._

"_Fine."_

"_Fine." Hermione turned away from Bertrude and leaned her back against the cold of the employee desk. This was going to be a long week._

_End of Flashback_

Since the confrontation, Bertrude refused to so much as greet the frizzy-haired witch. The only way Hermione could tell that the portrait witch was still in fact alive was by Bertrude's foul glares and the disgruntled, scornful 'hmphs' that the portrait made whenever Hermione did something. Yesterday was comprised of Hermione working diligently behind the employee desk, waiting on customers that never appeared. Yet again, Hermione found herself bored beyond belief and standing behind the same employee desk that she had come to detest. She swore to herself that she would never view tall, dark wooden desks in the same light ever again.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Hermione spun a black quill pen around her fingers. She was trying to master a complicated pen flip one of her friends at Hogwarts had tried to teach her **(refer to A/N**). _What better time to practice? _The witch thought to herself. Half way through the flip, the quill tumbled from her fingers onto the desk.

"Troll breath," She muttered picking up the pen again in determination. This time, however, when she tried to spin the quill around her thumb, instead of landing neatly in between her thumb and index finger, the quill flew from her hand and landed on the ground next to her feet. The sound of the metal of the quill colliding with the wood floor resonated through the empty store.

"Hmph," Bertrude snorted in amuement at the witch's failure before turning her head away from Hermione as though she was disgusted to have to look at scum like her. Hermione sighed and let her head fall onto the desk with a thud. She wondered whether Mr. Flainder would be disappointed to walk into the store and see Hermione throwing darts at the Bertrude's portrait. The image of Bertrude trying to dodge the darts by jumping around in her portrait truly was an amusing image to entertain Hermione's bored imagination. However, the idea was not one the girl would ever act upon.

Quickly shunning the tempting thoughts from her mind, she focused on her task at hand: helping customers. Looking around the store, Hermione was greeted by dozens of solitary shelves and not a single wizard insight. It was of course halfway through summer, so the girl found it understandable that very few people would spend their time in a bookstore; in a week however, when the school books came in, the store would be filled with people. Hermione did not want to wait a week, because in a week she would have already died of boredom. As much as she hated customers, she really wished that someone would walk into the store soon.

The most she had done over the past three days was answer a strange letter with a green accent sent to Flourish and Blotts inquiring after a random book. She had responded in detail, taking her time with her return letter and savoring the fact that she finally had something to do. Despite her efforts, the letter soon came to an end, and Hermione attached it the the patient owl that had arrived with the letter. That had happened yesterday, and now there was no such thing to entertain the witch. Settling for her previous entertainment of flipping quills, Hermione grabbed yet another quill from the container on the desk.

The door banged open, and a tall platinum blond wizard walked in. He had on dark robes and a pair of expensive pants with a silk button down white shirt. Hermione knew the type. The wizard's eyes were a calculating, piercing grey color, and his face was accented with sharp curves and a little bit more than a dash of arrogance. He was the type of person who made you wonder if his parents looked through a catalog and picked out his every feature before filling out the order form. Hermione just thought that people like him looked too perfect to have randomly combined genetics; whatever had made him could not have been a random combination for nothing that perfect came out of something so unpredictable.

Girl's anywhere would throw themselves at the man's feet. An emotion rose in Hermione as she took in the wizard's features, and the girl recognized the feeling immediately. Anger. It was the man that had literally ran into her twice before and had accidentally found his way into the archives, the prick. The same man was looking around the store, gathering his bearings before glancing at the portrait of Bertrude. The wizard's back was now to Hermione; he must not have assumed that there would be anyone in the employee desk. _Lucky me,_ Hermione thought bitterly, knowing that she couldn't leave the desk and hide in the shelves.

"What are you looking at?" The wizard snapped at the portrait. Hermione almost laughed at Bertrude's face, for the portrait witch seemed to be enjoying her view of the blond wizard. Despite the wizard's arrogance and complete lack of morality, Hermione enjoyed watching Bertrude get in trouble. To Hermione, the wizard and Bertrude were cut from the same cloth; they were raised to think only about themselves and act like they deserved everything they sent their eyes on.

The sight reminded Hermione of a narrative she would find in books documenting animals in their natural habitats; in her head, she herself was narrating the scene in front of her. _We were so lucky as to stumble across theses two lions as they prepare to face each other down. Watch how comfortable the two lions are, as you are viewing them in their natural habitat. This is something you would never see in one of the zoos back home. Watch now as they lock eyes and prepare to engage in a fight. Notice how the male's shoulders tense in anticipation, while the female leans in close clearly in admiration of the male. _

"Something I wish I woke up to ever morning," Bertrude replied easily. Hermione's eyes widened to an impossible size, and she could not withhold the laugh from escaping her mouth. The wizard's dismissive snort mixed in with Hermione's silvery laugh.

The wizard turned around as Hermione's hands flew to her face to cover her mouth just a little too late. When the wizard saw her, he gave a little smirk, which Hermione returned with a glare. It astounded her how much arrogance could fit inside just one person.

"Can I help you with something?" Hermione asked in an 'I hope you drop dead' kind of voice.

"Yes, I think you can," the wizard responded smoothly puling a book out of his robes as he approached the desk. Hermione immediately recognized the title of the book, when he placed it on the desk. "I would like to return this book."

"Sorry," Hermione said, looking the wizard straight in the eyes, showing him she wasn't intimidated by his presence. "We don't have a return policy for thieves." The wizard's eyes narrowed at the girl. "In order to prevent me from reporting your crime to the Ministry of Magic, you can however pay the fifteen galleon fine for the book." Hermione had no idea where her words came from or the confidence she needed to speak them, however, they had already slipped off her tongue and were irreversible. _I'll just donate the extra thirteen galleons to a charity for squibs or something, _she thought to herself.

"The notice I received stated that the cost for the book was only two galleons," the wizard heatedly protested, having realized what she was doing.

"That was before we added in the processing fee," Hermione responded evenly, her glare meeting the wizard's angry eyes.

"Here's two galleons," the wizard replied coolly placing the coins on the wood of the desk and grabbing the book before turning away from Hermione and walking toward the shelves. "I'll return the book to the shelves myself, since you seem too...delicate too do it yourself."

Hermione felt her face heating up in anger. He was implying that she was too weak to even return a book to a shelf; the prejudice, sexist bastard. "You hardly even know where the book belongs," she cried in indignation, abandoning her post at the desk to chase after the impossible wizard who had disappeared into the shelves.

-o-o-

**{Draco}**

It was too easy! All he had too do was insult her capability as a woman, and she was storming into the shelves after him. Draco kept himself from laughing at how simple it was to manipulate the witch. Unbeknownst to said witch, Draco had studied the witch's handmade maps of the bookshop and archive; he was almost positive he now knew the shop better that even she did. Quickly sliding into a hidden crevice between a bookshelf and a wall, Draco successfully hid hid himself from sight. Seconds later, the petite witch past Draco's hiding place oblivious to his presence.

It made sense why the witch seemed to enjoy the bookstore; it reminded Draco of Hogwarts in the way that it offered several hiding places. Draco also enjoyed the heavy musty smell that had accumulated in the air, it instilled a warm solitary feeling in him. Even though he was alone in the bookshelves, the air held traces of all the people whom had visited. Their scents were captured in the thick paper of the books, in a way it was comforting that when you died and everything about you had been lost to the world, the little bookstore would preserve the tiniest semblance of your presence within it.

Realizing his train of thought, Draco shook his head to clear it. Foolishness was what it was. The store was just like any other, and that was that. _Now to get out of this crevice, _Draco thought to himself. That was when he looked down an saw the number of cobwebs that had gathered on his robes.

"Bloody hell," Draco exclaimed, pulling himself from the small space and hastily whipping the cobwebs of his clothes. Shooting an agitated glare at the his previous hiding place, Draco swore that he would be owling someone about this.

Approaching footsteps echoed through the air, reminding the blond wizard of his purpose in the shop. He quickly slid the book into an empty space between two books on a random bookshelf. The witch was right; Draco had no idea where the book belonged. The maps did not contain the method for how the books were organized, just the placement of bookshelves. He was pretty sure that some day in the future the feisty witch would find the book on this shelf and realize that Draco had not in fact returned the book to it's proper place, and he wished that he was not anywhere near her when she did discover it.

As he headed back toward the front of the store, Draco couldn't help but smile at how genius his plan was. When it came to woman, he knew exactly what how to get his way. His plan this time was quite simple. He had angered the witch and now she would comb the whole store even the archives, since she knew that he had found his way into their before. The whole while, Draco would be in the front of the store, waiting for her to finish. By the time she did, she would be tired and hopefully have forgotten her anger. It would be the perfect time to claim her. The only thing Draco hadn't accounted for was the horrid witch in the portrait by the door.

Draco never regretted his great looks; however, earlier when the portrait had tried to hit on him, Draco came pretty goddamn close. Even Vincent Crabbe, renown for his preference of variety in his women, would not want to tap that. _Maybe I could take an extra lap around the store before returning to the front, _Draco thought to himself, quickly changing direction and starting down a familiar aisle of bookshelves.

-o-o-

**{Hermione}**

Hermione had searched the whole bookstore for that despicable blond wizard. Her results: nothing. The only plausible reason for this was that the wizard had left the store after stashing the book somewhere. The thought made her blood boil. All the time she had spent creating her very own system of organization in this bookstore was wasted when someone placed a random book where it did not belong. In Hogwarts, the witch had lost many hours of studying trying to locate books that had not been checked out but were not in their rightful place. It angered her to know that the book she needed was somewhere in the library where some kid had just placed it down on a shelf it did not belong in.

"I don't care how long your grandfather lived before losing all the hair on his head. Shut up you unfathomable witch." The voice most certainly belonged to the blond wizard. Hermione began to hasten her pace, hoping to catch him before he left. SHe had a word or two she need to share with him.

"Oh, but my father now he had a great head of hair. His dark locks were so soft that as kids we would entertain ourselves by running our hands through his hair." Bertrude's voice rang sharp and clear in Hermione's ears. The wizard was talking to Bertrude? Willingly? Hermione had been right; wizards were idiots. "If you see, I have his same soft locks of hair. If I were not a portrait, I would let you touch so you can see for yourself. But then again, If I were not a portrait, we would be doing other things than talking right now."

Hermione almost gagged. She had reached the front of the shop,and was watching the scene in front of her through a gap between two books in a bookshelf. It was now dark outside, and the candlelit interior of the shop seemed bright compared to the darkness outside of the glass windows that spanned the length of the front of the shop. The blond wizard was perched upon the employee desk in a elegant, carefree manner that infuriated Hermione even farther. However, the poor witch had just walked the whole store and was quite exhausted, so she was not nearly as angry as she should have been.

"Hardly," the wizard drawled, examining his nails in disinterest. _This has gone on long enough, _Hermione thought to herself before stepping out from where she stood behind the bookshelf. The blond wizard looked up as she approached but said nothing.

"There the little rat is," Bertrude exclaimed in agitation at seeing Hermione. "I refuse to so much as talk to her again. She has absolutely no respect for -"

"Silencio," The blond wizard muttered, shutting Bertrude up for good.

"I'm surprised you didn't do that earlier," Hermione voiced her thoughts.

The blond wizard grinned and slid of her desk. Hermione walked over to the desk and strategically placed herself behind the structure in order to keep something in between the wizard and herself. _It will prevent me from strangling him, _Hermione told herself_._

"Your total for the day will come to thirteen galleons," Hermione said, holding her hand out expectantly. The wizard raise an single blond eyebrow in response. "Tell me," Hermione continued, retracting her arm and leaning forward in the desk, feeling confident. "What exactly does a wizard like yourself want with a book titled An Escape From Procuration Contracts. Are you returning it because you realized that we do not in fact fill books that no one would want to read with pornographic images?" Hermione had in fact heard that some bookstores did just that; it was comparable to the black market in book form.

"Wizards like me?" The blond wizard asked, his eyes full of a mystery humor, like he was daring her to answer that one. To make it worse, the wizard then mimicked Hermione's action of leaning forward on the small desk surface so that their elbows were touching and faces were inches apart.

Hermione jumped away from him as though he was the negative side of a magnet and she was the positive side. Science was against them being near each other, or at least, that was Hermione's excuse. The witch's action seemed to deeply amuse the wizard for whatever reason. _Whatever, _Hermione thought to herself dismissively. The probability of Hermione ever seeing the wizard again after this was low.

"Afraid?" Draco asked in what Hermione thought was probably the most cocky voice she had ever heard.

"If your implying that I am afraid of you, then I'm not." Hermione said through gritted teeth; she no longer had the patience for the wizard's antics. "Thirteen galleons."

The wizard grinned yet again and pulled the currency out of his pocket along with a piece of creme paper. "What's your is mine, love." Hermione's froze at his words and looked down at the piece of paper that lay face up on her desk.

Official Procuration Contract, it read. Only Hermione's eyes moved as they took in the words on the page. It was stamped with an official Ministry of Magic seal. But the part that made Hermione's heart shrivel up and die inside of her was the two black lines one with a signature that read Draco Malfoy, and the other one was signed Hermione Granger in her very own handwriting. Hermione's looked up from the paper at the blond wizard in front of her.

"So what side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?"

**If anyone was wondering about the pen flip thing, google japanese pen flips or watch a youtube video about it. I'm am seriously addicted to flipping my pen around my fingers, and I trust me when I say that my experiences with pen flipping are so much more embarrassing then Hermione's. If you decide to teach yourself pen flipping, then I can assure you that you will form some embarrassing memories of your own.**

**I found this one song the other day, and I strongly recommend for people to listen to it. The music video and beat aren't the best, but the lyrics definitely pertain to our society. Don't be afraid to look into the lyrics; to me at least, they contain a lot of symbolism. If you want to know what inspired me to write this fanfiction, it's thoughts like these. Here is the song: Until the ribbon breaks – 2025.**

**Please review! it's nice to know what ALL of you guys are thinking.**


	5. Chapter 5: Aftermath

**_OKAY GUYS, I HAVE A SECRET!_! But its only going to be a secret for the next three seconds because I'm about to tell all you guys what it is. 3. 2. 1. I'M WRITING A SECOND STORY! Ok, maybe you guys are not as excited about this as I am, but make sure you check it out. It's about vampire, mates, and all the drama that makes up a good love story. This is the summary.**

_WHEN SILENCE SCREAMS_**: Scarlett is a dhampir. Her father created her to be a weapon, however, things did not go according to plan. Now Scarlett is hidden away from the world, but more importantly, she is hidden from her mate. Griffin Wesley Baird IV is prince to the largest coven in the western hemisphere, but he will not live long enough to reign unless he finds his mate. Better summary inside. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Sorry to disappoint :l **

**DramioneAddiction:**** Thanks, and you will just have to wait an see... **

**Lupa Eira:** **I myself do not like Draco in the beginning of this story, but I also want to respect his character. Sorry if he's a bit repulsive; soon, he'll begin to change. Oh, and the elder Malfoys may want Draco to settle down, but they have little respect for the girls Draco signs. You'll just have to see how it will all play out ;)**

**Limited Eternity:**** lol, yes, granny has game. Trust me, this isn't the last to be heard of Bertrude.**

**Music Loving Bookworm:** **Haha. Yes, she just might ;)**

**TheyCallMeSnow:**** HAHA! Here is your update. Did I make it fast enough? Seriously though, I think that is so cool; you should get free food or something when you visit Disney World!**

**Chester99:**** Thank you for your concern, and I'm glad you pointed that out. I have already taken the time to change the mistake. Good catch! And yes, Draco really does like to get on Hermione's nerves, but he just might wish he had held his tongue this time :)**

**Arenqua:**** You should definitely start your story again! I'm going to go and read it because I'm assuming it is a Dramione fic, and I absolutely love those. But your going to have to update because I'm going to want to read more of the story :)**

**Honoria Granger:**** Thank you for taking the the time to review. I understand your concern with viewpoint. I have a few concerns of my own with switching viewpoints unannounced, because no mater how smooth of a transition a writer makes, the action runs the risk of confusing the reader. This being said, I respect your advice, and for this chapter, I have decide to try out your suggestion to see if the readers like it. Yes, I also agree that saying 'The' in front of a person's ****name does not have the same effect on paper as it did in my mind :) Hermione and Draco did not meet previously, because I wanted a fresh start. The plot line for this story is difficult to explain because I am introducing a new concept: Procuration Contracts. I chose not to include a back story out of fear that readers would get lost in Hermione and Draco's past when the importance of the story was really occurring in the present.**

_Chapter 5_

Draco looked up from where he sat on his loveseat to send a weary glare at the witch sitting across from him. Hermione and him were now at his his Manor trying to 'solve this problem like adults' as Hermione had so eloquently put it. Of course, that had been after the girl had punched him in the face, so Draco wasn't exactly enthusiastic to be around her at the moment.

_Flashback_:

"_So what side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?" _

"_How dare-"_

"_Or maybe," Draco continued lazily. He was after all the dominant figure, or, as muggles put it, he was the one who wore the pants in the relationship. "You prefer not to sleep at all. Maybe you prefer to act on all those dark fantasies you ignore during the daytime. Tell me, dear Hermione, what gets you all hot and bothered? Is it the sweet talking wizard? Maybe it's the pleasurable, experienced wizard? Which is it, love?" _

"_Bastard." The witch Draco now knew to be Hermione Granger spat. _

_Draco just smirked. "You hardly seem the type to waste the night away with bastards, but if that be your preference, I would be glad to-"_

_Before Malfoy could finish antagonizing her, Hermione's fist collided with the left side of Draco's face. The force of the punch sent her stumbling forward into the surprisingly unstable employee desk. Both Hermione and the desk tipped over on top of the blond wizard. All three of them fell to the ground in a less than preferable position, Draco first and then the desk with Hermione sprawled on top of it._

"_Omph," The breath left Draco's lungs in one of the most undignified sounds that had ever graced his lips. The table's flat edge painfully pressed against his gut, and the witch's weight on top of it did nothing to ease his discomfort._

"_Oh Merlin," Hermione exclaimed as her mind caught up with her actions. She hastily rolled off of the pile, causing Draco to grunt at the sudden weight change. The witch then struggled to push the heavy desk off of the currently not so arrogant wizard; she managed to tip it on its side and onto the floor next to them._

_Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on inhaling the air back into his lungs. Once he was able to talk again, he was going to have a very stern conversation with that witch of his, that was if she did not kill him with her clumsiness first. _

_BANG. BANG. THUMP. Draco's eyes flew open, fully expecting to see Hermione standing over him with another heavy object to drop on him. Instead, he saw her kneeling by his side, her head turned away from him, angled toward the door of the shop. Confused, Draco managed to tilt his head to the side to see what his girl was looking at. The sight that greeted him was rather amusing. The portrait on the wall was rocking back and forth as the witch inside of it banged her fists against the surface of her painting in apparent outrage at the sight in front if her. The frame hit the bookshelves near it with loud bangs. _

"_Damn... witches," Draco coughed out, bringing Hermione's attention back to him. "Going to.. be the...death of me._

_Relief flooded her face at the sight of him alive; however, it was soon gone and replaced by anger. He was still the same irritating wizard she had gone so far as to punch. "Don't flatter yourself. I would never stoop that low."_

_Draco could not help but respond to her in a snarky tone. "Your right, you flatter me enough as it is by throwing yourself across desks to get at me. If you wanted some sweet loving all you have to do is ask you know?"_

_The variety of emotions that flooded the witch's face at his comment was quite entertaining to the wizard, or at least it was until said witch grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward with a furious expression having captured her countenance. "I. WAS. NOT. THROWING. MYSELF. AT. YOU." She pronounced ever word as a separate sentence to emphasize her point._

_With the sound of the portrait's banging in the background, Hermione had to yell very loud in order to be hear, and Draco truly heard her loud and clear. "Merlin, are you trying to ruin my hearing or seduce me, because right now you are accomplishing both feats," Draco yelled back feeling that the position they were currently in was to his liking._

"_How could you even-" Hermione started to shout back, a red blush staining her cheeks._

"_Blimey!" Everything seemed to freeze as an old man's voice echoed through the bookstore. The portrait's banging stopped instantly, and Hermione turned around so quickly she banged her head on the edge of the desk that she had left on the floor next to her. _

"_Ouch." Draco heard her cry as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Without the witch's grip on his collar pulling him around, the position was much easier to attempt. _

"_Hermione what has happened to my store?" There was an old man, whom Draco assumed to be the owner of the store, Flainder Blore. Hermione visible paled as she seemed to realize how strange it must have looked to Mr. Blore._

"_I am-" She started._

" _-going on vacation for a few months," Draco interrupted. "Owl the cost of the mess to the Malfoy Estates," His hand closed around the hilt of his wand and the other grasped Hermione's tiny wrist. With a flash they were gone, reappearing seconds later in the parlor of Draco's Manor. _

"_Alka!" Draco shouted upon their arrival. Instantly, the elf appeared in front of them. He still had Hermione's wrist in his hand, and it dawned on Draco that the energy it took to apparate paired with the headache Hermione's left-hook had given him was not a good combination. "Prepare two glasses of firewhiskey in the green room."_

_Draco then turned to his witch. He took her in with a stern expression on his face. "If I let go of your wrist to heal myself do you promise not to punch me, again?"_

_Hermione met his gaze with a challenging glare and shook her head. Draco gritted his teeth together. This witch was going to test his every last nerve. _

_End of Flashback_

"That is not my signature," Hermione said after a few seconds of studying the Contract. The witch and wizard were seated in a spacey green room filled with an assortment of large plush chairs and a loveseat in the middle. The chairs and couch were facing each other, and the only divider was a small mahogany coffee table, that was currently littered with documents. Hermione had herself wrapped in a large wool blanket on a well cushioned ornate chair, while Draco was lazily sprawled across the loveseat, still peeved from the fact that he had been hit by a girl.

"Here, let me see that," The wizard said, holding his hand out for the document. Hermione handed it to him, and he looked at the page before shifting his gaze to the table where the letter he had produced with her signature on it sat. "I'm pretty sure that is your signature."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the wizard in front of her. There was no way that she was going to let him get away with this. "Yes of course it's my signature," she said every word slowly, trying to get her point across, while also trying to calm herself before she did yet another thing she was likely to regret. "But I never signed this document."

"Well, let's think about this for a second." Draco said slowly, as he sat up properly. "I have a document stating that you legally belong to me. You claim that you did not sign said document, however your signature is clearly written on the line where the female usually signs. Who do you think the Ministry of Magic officials will believe?"

Hermione very nearly growled at the wizard as she leaned forward in her chair "You know that I never signed that piece of paper, and besides...," she was trying to think of a good excuse for the wizard. Then her eyes fell on the green stone attached to her finger. The Weasley ring. " Besides, I'm already in a Contract with someone else." She held up her hand with the ring on it as proof.

"What a tragedy. I should feel so terrible about stealing someone else's witch shouldn't I?" Draco replied statistically. Hermione frowned, unable to understand why the wizard was not backing down; a claimed witch was off limits to others. Reaching into the pile of papers on the table, the wizard pulled out a small photo. When Hermione saw what the picture held, she realized the reason for Draco's persistence. "But that is of course only applicable if the witch we speak of actually does belong to another wizard, which you don't, do you?"

The photo was of Ron and his wife on their wedding day. The girl in the picture was everything Hermione wasn't. She was tall, black-haired, blue eyes, and most of all married. There was no way Hermione could convince Draco that she was already claimed; he clearly knew that the ring belonged to Ron. It dawned on Hermione that Draco might have an alternate reason to showing her the picture; she wasn't called the smartest witch of her age for nothing. The wizard must have wanted leverage over her, and by showing her that he knew one of her best friends had committed a treasonous act, Draco had achieved just that.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, looking wearily at what appeared to be her new boyfriend.

The wizard was suddenly serious in his reply. "I want a submissive witch who will act like the perfect partner in public and will leave me alone in private. I want a girl with a beautiful body who all will be jealous of. I want a partner who will listen to my every command without argument. But most importantly, I want a semi-intelligent witch."

"So why did you pick me? I will never be any of those things." Semi-intelligent? Hermione did not know whether to be offended or angry. _Both will be more than appropriate for the situation, _she thought in agitation. This wizard did not really expect her to give in to him, and if he did, then he was as much of an idiot as she how initially thought.

"Hmm," the wizard seemed to ponder, but under the patient facade, Draco was fuming. The girl shouldn't be asking so many questions. She should be blindly obeying him like he had expected her to do. "I see the problem here. You must not understand what I am saying. You _will_ be those things, because if you don't I will expose your best friend for the traitor that he is." The last part was said with a smile.

Hermione gasped. What a evil, manipulative, sadistic, inconsiderate, arrogant, malicious bastard. She could think of quite a few more adjectives to use, however the witch had not the patience to sit there and list them all. As much as Hermione hated Procuration Contracts, she loved her friends even more. Tears began to pool in her eyes as she thought of what could happen to Ron if Draco exposed him. She knew that if Ron of Harry were in her position they would do anything they could to help her. Now she was faced with a decision that could ruin Ron's happy life. _Why should I risk destroying his perfectly enjoyable life for the sake for my comfort?_ Hermione thought, knowing full well what she had to do.Even if she hated every second of it, Hermione was going take up Draco's offer, and when the wizard moved onto a new girl, she would allow herself to fade into the background again and resume her life.

"Fine," Hermione agreed, working to keep her voice steady as she practically damned herself to Hell for the next couple of months. "I will do as you say, but don't think that I won't make your life miserable in doing it."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Draco rolled his eyes. _Stubborn girl, _he thought to himself. She was about to be pampered to death by one of the richest wizards in the world and all she could do was complain and attempt to threaten him. He needed to work on the witch's optimism.

"For my first command," Draco started, beginning to enjoy the power he held over Hermione Granger. The girl shot him a sharp glare that made him grin even more. "I want you to kiss me"

Hermione shook her head. That was out of the question. "I am going to bed," She stated, before rising from her chair and leaving the room.

At first Draco was furious at the girl; she had agreed to be submissive. He was about to remind her that he could easily spread word of her friend's action, but he stopped himself. He had thought of a much better punishment.

"Alka," He called. The house elf appeared yet again in front of him.

"Yes master?"

"I want all the house elves posted at any of the major stairwells throughout the house. When you see my newest witch walking down the path that will lead her to her room, I want you to send her in the other way. If she asks for directions, lead her to the opposite side of the manor, do you understand?"

"Oh, master," The sensitive house elf looked at her master in utter horror. "The poor -"

"Do you understand?" Draco asked more forcefully.

"Yes, master," The elf mumbled.

"Then you may leave."

When the elf was gone, Draco allowed a smirk to grace his lips. This was s_weet_ _payback for when I got lost in the bookstore, _Draco thought happily to himself. It was better that a stupid kiss, and besides, he would get that kiss sooner or later

"Faizy," Draco called remembering that he needed his personal makeup artist, Gustavus, to be at his Manor tomorrow. He could not take Hermione out in public in her current state of dress. No, that would be social suicide for him; instead, Draco planned to devot all of tomorrow to managing the girl's makeover. The wizard looked forward to watching Hermione squirm under the gaze of the makeover artist, his two assistance, and Draco himself. The sight might just make up for her attacking him earlier that afternoon.

"Yes, master?"

Draco waved the elf's formalities aside. "Fetch Gustavus for tomorrow, and I want you personally to wake up my new witch early tomorrow morning." An idea formed in Draco's head. _I truly am quite sadistic, _he thought to himself upon reflecting on the idea. "Oh, and in the case that she does manage to get some sleep tonight, I would like for you to wake her ever hour that she is asleep." This way, Hermione would be too exhausted to protest very much tomorrow when she was told to try on different clothing or to stand still while Gustavus did her hair.

The house elf merely nodded in affirmation before disappearing.

-o-o-

Hermione wandered the empty halls of the Malfoy Manor aimlessly. She truthfully had no idea where she was going, but she comforted herself on the fact that wherever she was headed was far away from that little devil of a wizard. He truly had a lot of nerve approaching her like that. Despite her anger, she truly felt bad for falling on him and also tipping the desk onto him; for punching him, however, Hermione was not in the least bit sorry.

After wandering the cold, empty corridor for what felt like forever, Hermione began to feel the weariness of the day's activities catching up with her. All she wanted now was a nice warm bed. The only trouble was finding a way to locate her room in this horror maze of a house.

"Mrs." Hermione spun around at the shrill voice behind her. Standing by a small stairwell was a tiny elf wrapped in a single rag that seemed to fall off the poor thing's body.

"Yes?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"Master Draco told me to show you the way to your room," the elf squeaked again.

At Hogwarts, Hermione had started a organization called the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. She had wanted to help the elves, because she felt that that were mistreated and misunderstood. Seeing Malfoy's poor elf in front of her in nothing but rags brought back those feelings. Poor elves. Despicable Malfoy.

"Thank you, How do I get to my room from here?" Hermione responded politely.

"Just follow the hallway all the way to the end of the house, and there you will find another elf at a stair case; he will direct you to your room," the elf said in it's high-pitched voice.

Hermione nodded in response**. **Leave it to Draco to assign her a room on the opposite side of his huge mansion. She was going to have a stern talk with that wizard when she awoke next morning. "Thank you for you help," She told the small elf with a smile, causing the elf to look at Hermione curiously.

-o-o-

_This is absolutely preposterous, _Hermione thought to herself in anger. On her supposed way to her room, she had stopped sixteen times to ask for directions from the elves whom seemed to be posted at all the stairwells. Each time, the elves had given her a new set of direction leading her all around the Manor. By this time, the witch was sure she had circled the Manor at least five times.

Hermione let out an aggravated scream and kicked at one of the walls. Somehow, she knew Draco was behind this. Whatever his plan, she refused to be a part of it any longer. He clearly wanted her to spend the whole night searching for her bedroom. However, Hermione needed her sleep. Opening a random door in the hallway, the witch looked inside to see what it held. There was a bed in the center of the room made up with what looked like finely made covers and pillows. Hermione let out a sound of releif and walking into the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

**In case you guys have not noticed, I have changed the style of this chapter. Review and tell me what you think. **

**Yet, again guys PLEASE REVEIW! It is unbelievably helpful to read your comments.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Awaited Makeover

**WARNING: THIS STORY IS UPSETING!**** Draco is a bad guy, enough said. I wish that I could make everything better in just a few chapter, but I can't because change occurs over time. Draco and Hermione must slowly adapt to each other's presence. For all of those people out there that are outraged by the gall of some men and their arrogance, I am sorry if this upsets you even farther. I did get quite a few exclamation marks and angry Draco comments in the reviews, so I hope that means you guys are into the story...regardless, here is the sixth chapter.**

**Also, there will probably be spelling error and whatnot, so don't hate. I've got other stuff I have to do outside of Fanfiction.**

Chapter Six

Draco remained sprawled across his loveseat hours after Hermione had left. No matter how many drinks he had, he still felt uneasy. Pansy was long gone, and Draco had – for lack of a better word – motivated Hermione Granger to accept his demand of becoming partners. Save for the fact that Hermione was proving more difficult than expected, Draco had no reason to lose himself in firewhiskey. Yet, there he sat, with a glass of firewhiskey in one hand and his wand in the other to refill the glass when it was found to be empty.

He thought of how jealous everyone would be when he displayed Hermione in public. A small smirk spread across his drunken features at the vivid mental picture the thought conjured. Swirling the golden-brown alcohol around in his glass, Draco found himself quite pleased with his current situation. _I mistook myself, _Draco thought to himself. _I am drinking out of pleasure rather than stress._ It had been so long since he had felt the emotion that the wizard hardly recognized it. He prided himself on finding the girl, Hermione; her looks would prove more beneficial to him than they would her.

With that in mind, Draco pushing himself up from the seat. The moment all of his weight was forced upon his unsteady legs, Draco collapsed back onto the couch. Casting a quick sobering spell, he felt some of the blurriness in his vision fade. He was most certainly not completely sober, but the wizard was slightly less drunk than what he had been a moment before. Taking a moment to collect himself, Draco once again pushed himself up from the loveseat. This time, at least, his legs were able to support the rest of his body.

Once on his feet, it was not very difficult for Draco to locate the path to his bedroom. When he had finally found the room, he entered though the doorway and shuffled over to the bed. Quietly removing his shoes and sock, the wizard slipped under his surprisingly warm sheets. Before he could so much as cast a second thought as to why the his bed was warm, he was already asleep.

-o-o-

Hermione woke well-rested in the morning. Her eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliarly large looking white ceiling. _Strange, _she thought to herself. _My room is not this- Oh!_ The previous day's came back to her, slowly replaying in her mind. For a few minutes, the witch merely lie on the bed staring up at the ceiling. When did her life become so complicated?

A masculine groan sounded from right beside her, and Hermione felt the mattress dip down as something readjusted itself on her bed. The girl froze. Slowly and with wide eyes, she turned her head to the side frightened to see what or who she had been sharing her bed with. What she saw was the sleeping face of the handsome blond wizard she knew and hated. The witch's previously wide eyes narrowed. _How dare he come into my room and invade my bed. _ She thought to herself angrily. _I am sick of his antics, If he thinks I would allow this behavior than he is as delusional as he is rich. Why I out to-_

Another groan interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Her gaze shifted into one of disgust as she took in his sleeping appearance. Even in sleep he looked unnaturally handsome, if slightly different; rather than wearing his trademark arrogant smirk and wicked gleam in his eyes. Draco looked utterly innocent. Had Hermione never heard the wizard speak, she would have thought that the boy who lay before her came straight from a fairytale. But he doesn't, and unfortunately, he does speak. The witch made a dismissive noise as she turned her head away from him intent on removing herself from his proximity. Before the sound was hardly out of her mouth, Draco's eyes shot open while a pair of pale hands shot out, connecting with her back and pushing her off the bed and onto the floor. In shock at the sudden movement, Hermione grabbed onto the nearest object, the bedding. The witch's bum collided with the cold wooden panels on the floor, and the heavy comforter followed in her suite by landing on top of her.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" Hermione heard a gruff voice demand. _Draco,_ she nearly screamed in fury as his name seemed to have become her favorite curse word.

"Was that really necessary, you little-" the witch fought against the comforter, trying to find her way out from underneath it. The air felt stuffy, and Hermione was sure that Draco had not heard a single word she had said due to the fact that the bedding seemed to be muffling her voice. Finally, she pulled the edge of the heavy blanket up and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Draco looked down over the side of his bed in surprise at the sound. There, glaring up at him, surrounded by a pile of bedding was Hermione. "What could you possibly be doing down there?" He snapped. _So that must have been the noise that woke me, h_e thought. _How did the bloody witch find her way into my bedroom? Didn't the house elves try to keep her out? Shouldn't- Wait, she came to me in my bedroom. _ A smirk spread across his face. _So much for little Miss. Innocent._

"I don't know, Draco," Hermione seethed, "I thought you would know the answer considering the fact that I woke up this morning to find you in _my_ bed, and when I when to leave, I found myself being shoved off onto the freezing cold floor." She glared at him pointedly.

_I must have pushed her off out of reflex ,_Draco thought in amusement. _Score one for Draco. _At Hogwarts he had been know to react defensively when someone tried to wake him up. On more than one occasion, he had punched Blaise Zambini, one of his good friends at the time, in the face when the fellow slytherin tried to rouse the Malfoy. When Draco was woken by a sudden noise or movement, his unconscious would view it as an immediate threat, hence the need to defend himself. The action had been acquired as a first year living with the fierce slytherins, most of who thought night was the best time for pranks.

"Reflex," Draco shrugged, knowing the witch would hardly understand. If she had even attended Hogwarts, she probably would have been sorted into Hufflepuff. Before the girl could protest, which Draco knew she would, he spoke. "Now that I know why you're on the floor, tell me why you found it in your fancy to enter my room."

Hermione was confused by him words. His room? But she thought this was her room. After all, last night she had been walking the halls and...she had entered a random room. So this hadn't been her room after all, but what were the chances that the room was his. The girl took a moment to wonder whether or not she had somehow angered an all-powerful being that was now seeking vengeance, because there was no way that any sole person could be this unlucky.

"I didn't know it was your room," Hermione said, suddenly embarrassed. Regardless of whether or not Draco was the a terrible host, she was his guest, so to speak, and she had slept in his bed last night. It was downright shameful. Then to have to wake up next to the wizard the next morning...Hermione was disappointed in herself for not realizing this earlier. In a manor this large, only the rooms that were currently being used would be made up, and no guest was ever placed in a room this lavish.

Draco looked at the girl doubtfully.

"Honestly, Draco," She scolded, finally standing up and placing her hands on her hips. As embarrassed as she may be by her own action, his actions still infuriated her. "Why would I enter your room purposefully other than to maybe kill you? Wait, you came in after me, didn't you?" Suddenly, Hermione was more than angry, she was furious. "You were not here when I came fell asleep, which means that you must have seen me when you came in later on." The witch was yet again sending an accusatory glare at the wizard.

"Hardly," Draco drawled. "I never turned the lights on when I walked in, and you were sleeping on the opposite side of the bed. There is no way that you are going to push this one off on me."

The two just stared at each other for a few seconds, silently fighting through their eye contact.

"Master Malfoy?"

Hermione turned around at the sudden sound. She hadn't even heard the elf materialize behind her.

"Mister Gustavus is here to see you."

"Finally," Draco said, said standing up from the bed and heading toward a door on the opposite side of the room, that Hermione assumed to be his bathroom, "Some good company."

-o-o-

Two hours later, Draco found himself entering a roomy cream sitting area where Gustavus waited patiently.

"Draco," the stylist addressed the blond wizard happily. Draco however replied with a dignified nod. He had just been informed that his beloved, stubborn, frizzy-haired, hot-tempered witch was nowhere to found. Yet again, Hermione had found a way to get under his skin.

"Nice outfit," Draco snapped. The words were meant as a compliment, however in his current mood, the wizard was unable to display any enthusiasm. Gustavus was a

Metamorphmagus, a wizard who was capable of changing his appearance without the use of polyjuice potion. Today, he was adorned with yellow robes, and his silver hair was spiked up away from his head. Draco had gotten to know the man over the last few years; he had hired Gustavus as a private makeup artist for his first Contracted witch, and since the time, he had never fired the man. Gustavus's energetic mindset, creative thinking, and makeup skills were unparalleled in the wizarding world. He was quite simply the best, and Draco respected that.

"Pleasant as ever, I see," Gustavus commented. Draco ignored the wizard, and instead pulled out two glasses and a bottle of liquor from a nearby cabinet.

"As you know, I have called you to help me with another one of my girls," Draco started. Gustavus frowned at Draco's casual mention of 'girl'. At twenty years old, Gustavus had signed a contract with a young witch named Emily, and the two of them had been inseparable since. Gustavus came from a poor family and a mediocre bloodline, so he did not feel pressured to marry for power or prestige. Instead, the wizard chose to sign a Contract with the girl he loved, and if they ever stopped loving each other, then he would move on and find someone else to love. He did not approve of Draco Malfoy's affectionless connection with witches.

"I have recently signed a new Contract, and I plan to keep this information a secret as long as possible. Your discretion will be well rewarded, as always. The girl's name is Hermione, and once I am able to locate her, I will bring her here for you to work on. Further instructions will be discussed at that time." Draco finished speaking and handed a glass filled with liquor to Gustavus before walking out of the room in search of Hermione.

Gustavus sipped the drink in silence. How strange it was for Draco to try and keep something as important as a new Contract a secret. Whatever had motivated the wizard to do something so contradicting of his past actions had Gustavus's mind filling with questions. What was different about this girl? What did she have that none of the other girl's had?

Nearly forty minutes later, when loud voices sounded from outside the door, and seconds later, Draco stormed into the room with an angry witch in tow, Gustavus had his answer. The girl, Hermione, was a mess. Sure, she had specific features that when accented correctly could make her beautiful, but despite all the potential she showed, the built up neglect of her beauty needs overshadowed the pretty features. Even Gustavus had a hard time seeing past the mane of wild, frizzy hair to see the small, delicate features that laid underneath.

_How did Draco even come across this witch? _Gustavus questioned to himself. As the people he thought of approached him. Draco had somehow seen enough potential in Hermione to sign a Contract with her and place his reputation on the line, and in Draco's world, reputation was everything. Gustavus appraised Draco and Hermione, thinking of what exactly Draco had been thinking when he signed the witch's Contract.

Draco had a firm grip on Hermione's wrist, and he wasn't planning on letting go until he knew that she was going to stay put and not attempt to escape. He had found the stupid girl wandering the corridors, feeling along the walls for hidden passageways. Clearly the witch had been quite familiar with the secret passageways in Hogwarts, which is the place Draco had modeled his manor after.

As much as he had hated all the pester some teachers and students, Hogwarts had been the home had always wanted. If you stripped away the prejudice, egotistic, rich, and rich part of Draco, you would be left with a boy who sought out solitude, preferred his own company over anyone else's, and actually like to learn. However, burdened by the pressure to be the perfect son for his parents, Draco had grown to accept a social lifestyle and everything that entailed.

-o-o-

Hermione glared at both Draco and the strange man standing next to him. She had already deduced that the man was a Metamorphmagus, but she had yet to discover what he was doing there. Both he and Draco had spent the last hour or so with their back facing her, discussing plans for some sort of event. From what Hermione could tell, the two of them could not seem to agree upon what they wanted. Apparently, the man was not letting Draco get his way, which earned Hermione's respect.

Finally, the man said loud enough for Hermione to hear, "How about a new proposal? You give me three days to do things the way I believe to be best, and at the end of the three days, if you do not like my work, I will undo everything, and do exactly as you say."

Draco thought about it for a few second. Hermione strained to hear him when he finally spoke. "You believe that ... will look best ...your way."

After a few more inaudible exchanges of words, the two men shook hands and turned back to Hermione.

Draco just let out a sharp laugh and said, "Good luck getting her into any of you dresses." Hermione looked up surprised; they were going to be putting her in dresses. That must have been what all the planning was about. The y were getting her new clothes or something. Draco was right, the man would need good luck; she would have none of it, especially if Draco was paying for the clothes. Just the idea of being indebted to Draco Malfoy had Hermione shuddering.

When the witch finally, snapped out of her thoughts, she realized that Draco had left the room, leaving her alone with the strange man.

"Hermione, right? I'm Gustavus," the man spoke in a friendly tone. "And I will be giving you a makeover for the next three days.

_Draco Malfoy, wherever you are, you are dead. _

-o-o-

It had taken Draco nearly an hour and a half to come to a decision regarding Hermione's makeover, Apparently, Gustavus had something against giving Hermione the same makeover that he gave all of Draco's girls. Draco really did not see what the problem was, but Gustavus was adamant. In the end, Gustavus presented Draco with a simple offer; all Draco needed to give him was three days, and then Draco would tell him that he hated what Gustavus did to Hermione and have him redo her the way he asks. Over his lifetime of manipulation experience, Malfoy had learned that sometimes the best way to show something what they don't want is to give them what they think they want.

-o-o-

Hermione stared at the wizard standing in front of her in shock.

"Please tell me that you are joking." The words formed a statement, but Hermione felt as though they should have sounded more like she was pleading with the man because that was what she felt like doing. Since the day Draco Malfoy walked into Flourish and Blotts, Hermione's life had become complicated, and thanks to the same wizard, she was no longer allowed to work in the store. Apparently Draco had her under house arrest at his manor. Hermione could do nothing to ignore Draco's word for fear that he would release the truth about Ron. Now, Draco had her going through a makeover.

"Trust me," the man said, pulling small yellow sundress from a rack of clothes that one of his employees was levitating past him, "you are going to thank me when all of this is done, but for the time being, why don't you take a seat?"

With a small pop, a salon chair and vanity mirror appeared in from of Hermione. Doubtfully glancing at the strange wizard and then back at the chair, the witch thought through her options.

She had never had a makeover before, and the certainty with which the wizard spoke alerted her to the fact that the man was truly a professional. Then of course there was Malfoy, who seemed to never settle for anything less than the best, which Hermione concluded from his lavish lifestyle; whoever the wizard was who would give her a makeover, must have been highly-experienced. For those reasons, as well as the realization that any attempt to escape would be fruitless, Hermione obediently slid into the chair and allowed the wizard to begin his work on her.

-o-o-

Hermione yawned and looked at her hair in the mirror. Over the past five hours, Gustavus, the wizard who had been giving her the makeover, had finally tamed the frizz. Apparently, all the spells necessary to create the hairstyle he had in mind for her were not comparable together. Gustavus had explained his predicament in muggle terms for Hermione, which made her appreciate him even more. As in chemistry, the wrong chemicals added together could become dangerous, but the right chemicals added together could be used to accomplish a task. The same was true of spells; Gustavus had to locate the right spells to use, or else he could risk turning Hermione's hair purple or burning it all off.

Finally, the wizard had located the right spells to use, and now Hermione's hair fell in soft, de-frizzed, curls. Sure, the hairstyle looked pretty, but the girl was more interested in learning from Gustavous.

"Now what do you think about this? It's simple yet sophisticated, so when you ever need to go with Draco to any kind of business function, I recommend using this" Gustavus asked, fixing her hair up in an intricate braid.

"Yes, of course," Hermione spoke impatiently, caring little about the topic of hair. "Now tell me about why combining a defense spell with an intruder spell would not work. I understand that in order to cast them you would need to place them in layers rather than just combining it into one spell, but why would casting both of them create a hole in the defense shield?"

After a few conversations with Gustavus, Hermione had discover that the man was really a gigantic font of knowledge, stored up and just waiting to be tapped into. Not a second was to be wasted; the witch began to ask him about things she had been researching for years but had still not been able to figure out. Given, most of the wizarding world hadn't been able to figure the m out either. Some questions, Gustavus would be able to answer, but other inquiries were left unanswered.

"The defense shield is meant to keep everyone but a chosen few out, whereas the intruder spell's fundamental purpose is to keep out any who enter through the shield with a harmful purpose to the spell-caster. Because defense shields need to be casted by all wizards whom the shield will protect, any of those wizards would be able to get through the intruder spell." Gustavus answered the question off-handedly, as though reciting a passage from a book. His attention was on Hermione's hair.

"Yes, it makes sense. What about-" Hermione started to ask yet another question, but Gustavus stopped her.

"No more questions, for the time being. I must leave you to my assistants while I go select outfits for you." Without waiting for a reply, the wizard was gone, replaced by two young women who immediately begun to pick up where he had left off.

With no one to talk to, Hermione soon fell into the comfort of her own thoughts, and barely noticed, hours later, when Gustavus reappeared to dismiss her for the day. A house elf then lead her to her room, uncountable sent by Draco to prevent a reoccurrence of what had happened that morning.

The next morning, Hermione was woken early and lead back to the makeover room almost immediately. The focus of this day was to remove all unwanted body hair, work on skin tone as well as complexion, and paint nails. When the women assistants told her this before leading her to Gustavus, Hermione paid little attention to anything they were saying. All that she cared about was that she would once again be able to converse with Gustavus, and overnight, she had thought up more questions from him.

-o-o-

"Everlasting potion?"

"Myth."

"Physical-enhancing spells for the human body?"

"Truth, but they are more difficult than most wizard have ever encountered before. In order to enhance of manipulate the human body, you have to change the very fundamental unity of life, the cell."

"Yes, but Richard Lewar was able to successful manipulate his DNA and make himself three inches taller when he tested out his theory for physical-enhancing spells."

"Yes, but he was also sixteen at the time and a growing boy."

"He was a midget."

"True, but his success was based on chance; when he attempted to then shorten his height, he was unsuccessful."

"At first, and then he tried- no, not that dress, it's too short," Hermione interrupted herself, looking at the black dress Gustavus was holding up. This was the third day of the makeover, and, so far, the day Hermione hated the most. With a sigh, Gustavus tossed the dress back into the growing veto pile. Hermione had said no to any dress or skirt that fell below her knees, and now, after going through all the clothes Gustavus had brought with him, Hermione hadn't found a single outfit she would dare wear in public.

The exhausted beautician fell back onto the plush couch his assistants had brought in with all the other beauty supplies. Running a hand through his gelled hair, in the process messing it up, he turned to Hermione. "Do you intend to make anything easy for me?"

Hermione, who was still thinking about the plausibility of physical-enhancing spells that could successfully manipulate human DNA, looked up suddenly, realizing for the first time that Gustavus was talking to her. "Come again."

"Dear Merlin, Hermione. Cut me a break, will you? I have risked my neck with Draco in order to help you. If it were up to him, you would be in skin tight, thigh high dresses and stilettos. The makeup you would have layer on your face would constitute at least a third of your total body weight. I'm trying to compromise between two extremes: Draco, the man whore, and Hermione, the shy conservative. If I present you in the dresses you approve, Draco will not approve, and then he take over and force you into much worse. You have to trust me to help you here. It is either me or Draco."

Hermione looked at Gustavus in shock. She knew that she had perturbed him by refusing to settle on dresses, makeup, and hairstyle, but she also hated stepping out of her comfort zone. Still, what Gustavus had said made sense. Just the last night, she had discovered the Malfoy library, and the witch had spent the whole night reading up on her rights in a Procuration Contract. Along the way, she had gotten a good glimpse of how most of the trophy wives looked. The women were perfect to a flaw, and that scared Hermione. If it were up to Draco, she would be made into just another trophy wife. When faced with the choice between Draco and Gustavus, Hermione would choose Gustavus without hesitation.

"Fine, do whatever you want, just don't let Draco get his way. I'm not ready for that."

A grin spread across Gustavus's face. Last night, when he had told Emily, the love of his life, about the stubborn witch Draco had signed, Emily had suggested that he guilt the girl into allowing him full control over the makeover. After discussing how to do so for hours with Emily, Gustavus had formulated the perfect plan. Hermione was doomed the minute she began to listen to Gustavus's pitiful rant.

-o-o-

Draco had waited three days already, and he was growing impatient. There was no way Gustavus would be able to persuade Hermione into one of those sexy dresses he liked. Gustavus was a softy, he would be a goner the second Hermione pulled the puppy dog eyes. Of course the idea of a pleading Hermione was also a source of entertainment for Draco; never would he expect the witch to beg or plead. She was too prideful for that. Lucky Gustavus.

A knock came from the door to Draco's study, before the door was pushed open and a weary Gustavus made his way across the threshold of the room before collapsing onto on of the sofas in the room.

"Dear, dear Draco. Prepare to be astonished by my magnificent and unparalleled skills."

Draco stared evenly at the wizard, knowing that...what was it the muggles say? He could 'talk the talk but not walk the walk'. What a silly saying it was; muggles should just say that the person is too cowardly to live up to his words. Why sugarcoat the facts?

Taking Draco's silence as invitation for proof, Gustavus pushed himself up into a proper sitting position and called, "Hermione, come in dear."

The click of heel resonated through the air and out of his peripherals, Draco saw a dark shape in the doorway. With one last doubtful look at Gustavus, the he turned to face the monstrosity of a witch who stood before him. Draco had complete faith in Hemione's stubbornness, she would never allow-

All coherent thoughts were stolen from Draco's brain the moment his eyes settled on the witch in front of him. The girl wore her hair in brushed curls that tumbled off her shoulders in sleek, natural waves. From there, small sleeves covered her tiny shoulders and lead down to a form fitting black lace dress that fanned out and finally ended an inch above her knees. The final touch was a pair of three inch black heels. The unruly hair was gone, and her eyebrows shaped to accent her pixie face. _What had I just been thinking about? _Draco thought to himself, trying to pull his eyes away from the beauty in front of him.

"Keep your eyes up here, you filthy ferret," Hermione's voice popped the bubble that was Draco's fantasies.

Leave it to the annoying witch to ruin something so great by opening that sharp mouth of hers. Rather than obeying Hermione, he made a show of running his eyes down every piece of the girl's outfit, causing her to shift uncomfortably. The movement pleased Draco; Hermione should feel nervous. He wasn't going to tell her that she looked better than most of his past partners; that would defeat the whole point of vexing her.

"That's it?" Draco asked, acting unimpressed and leaning back in his chair, nonchalantly. "I gave you three days and _this," _he gestures to Hermione, "is all you have to show me?"

Gustavus tried to keep the smile form his face. This was Draco's way of complimenting his work. In a minute or so of 'considering what he shall ever do with such an abomination to the fashion industry', the wizard would say 'I guess I am forced to make do with this for the time being' and then dismissing Gustavus. It was a common routine with Draco; he never wanted to admit to Gustavus's good work.

"I must take a moment to ponder what I shall ever do with such an abomination to the fashion industry," Draco sent a glance in Gustavus's direction, but for the most part, his appraising gaze remained upon Hermione. What Gustavus did notice was the subtle amusement in Draco's eyes when they had glanced at the makeup artist; he did not understand the cause for Draco's amusement until the wizard continued. "How can you even call yourself a makeup artist, much less a wizard. If I were you, I would be ashamed to-"

In an instant, Hermione had moved from the center of the room till she was standing before Draco, interrupting him by moving to smack him in the face. Draco however had seen the move coming, and jumping up from his chair, seized Hermione's wrist and spun her around, grabbing her other wrist and holding her back against his chest, his arms wrapped holding her still.

Gustavus had known that Draco was trying to provoke Hermione, and now, for whatever reason, Draco had her exactly where he wanted her. This only meant one thing: Draco no longer required his services.

"Let go of me this instant or else-" Hermione cried, clearly remembering that her wand was still back in the other room in the pocket of her jeans from earlier that morning.

"I guess I will be leaving now," Gustavus interrupted, earning a panicked look from Hermione. For a second, Gustavus felt bad for the girl. She looked so tiny and helpless in the arms of Draco. Then the second past, and Gustavus reminded himself that Draco would do nothing to hurt the stubborn girl. In fact, Draco would probably do her good, and vice versa.

Hermione watch Gustavus leave the room with a heavy heart. Where was he going? He was supposed to be protecting her from Draco. The door closed behind Gustavus with a noise of such finality, that Hermione had to force a sob from escaping her throat. Here she was in this stupid dress and heels with Draco Malfoy's arms wrapped around her and his warm chest pressed against her back. What was girl to do?

"Let me go." The words held no force.

"I don't think you've learned your lesson yet," Draco whispered into her neck. Hermione's eyes widened and she tried to wiggle away from the wizard. "No, you most definitely haven't learned your lesson."

Draco pulled her tighten against him the more she tried to squirm out of his hold. She grew angry with his treatment of her; she was not just some Barbie doll to be grabbed and pulled everywhere. "What, pray tell, is the lesson to be learned so that I may learn it and escape from your presence?"

Draco let out a long sigh, making sure the air he exhaled blew across the exposed part of Hermione's neck; the girl's shudder made him grin. He was enjoying this more than he thought he would.

"Lesson Number One," Draco spun Hermione around so that she was still in the circle of his arms but this way she was facing him. "Never question my authority."

"Is that all?" Hermione asked in annoyance, clearly unhappy with their current position.

"No, you must demonstrate that you have actually learned the lesson first," Draco scolded, knowing exactly where he was going to enjoy this.

Hermione scowled, hating being scolded, "How should I do that?"

"For a start, stop wiggling about." Draco snapped, annoyed with her moving. Hermione froze, meeting Draco's eyes with a challenging looks, as though asking 'what else?'. "Now close your eyes." This earned the wizard another doubtful look from Hermione. "Just do it. If I wanted to hard you , I would have done so already. If it so pleases you, think of Gustavus. He would never leave you alone with me if he knew I was going to harm you."

"He hardly even knows me why would he care at al whether or not you -"

"For Merlin's sake, just close your bloody eyes!"

"No!"

"You better or I will-"

"You will what?!"

Draco had enough with Hermione's antics. "I will tell the world about your friend Ronald Weasley."

That shut the witch up. With one last glare at Draco, Hermione shut her eyes. Draco, not expecting Hermione to have actually listened to him took in the witch's face with surprise. She had her eyes firmly closed, creating wrinkles across the top of her eyelids, and her lips were open slightly, as if waiting for the perfect moment to let slip another remark. Unable to help himself, Draco's eyes lingered on the girl's lips. Before his thoughts had the chance to catch up with him, his body moved of its own accord. His lips came down onto hers, capturing them in the sweet kiss of mutual hatred.

**READ THIS A/N! **

**Since high school has started up again, I will not be updating as often as I did previously. Sorry, guys. But maybe if you all review, I will be inspired to write each night before going to bed... **


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